


Woebegone

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Tragedy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mention of Death, alternate universe - no First Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Set in an AU where the First Order never rose to power and Snoke has no hold over young Ben Solo.Privileged son of resistance heroes, Ben Solo, accompanies his parents on a diplomatic visit to Arkanis. On the streets of Scaparus Port, Ben is mistaken for a rich tourist and a beggar asks him for some credits.Ben refuses, but guilt drives him back to find the starving young man with the fire-red hair and make amends. The beggar, surprised by Ben's change of heart and unexpected generosity, invites him to share the meal Ben has provided with his friends.This encounter sets in motion events that not even the Skywalkers can prevent.





	1. Introduction

What if The First Order did not rise from the ashes of The Empire?

The New Republic is imperfect, but a political success (as far as enough politically minded citizens are concerned) and remains in power. Senator Leia Organa-Solo is a busy politician and her son, Ben, although at sixteen he is little more than a youngling, is a precocious Jedi Padawan. He has everything to look forward to in his privileged life. Things could have gone very differently for him, but Leia, sensing something wrong, warped, in the Force through young baby Ben, called in her brother. Snoke didn't stand a chance against the combined power of the Skywalker twins. He died at a swing of Luke’s lightsaber before anyone else knew of the threat he might pose to young Ben and the New Jedi Order.

Armitage Hux never met Rae Sloane, who is reported to have died in battle against the Resistance as Gallius Rax torched the remans of the Empire fleet, frittering away their strength in futile battles against a growing New Republic fleet. His father, Brendol, was executed in public after a conviction for war crimes linked with his cruelty towards, and neglect of, child soldiers under his care. His “methods” sparked outrage throughout the galaxy and his trial was watched with voyeuristic hunger for visible justice, galaxy-wide on the holonet. Armitage’s mother found herself ostracised as a collaborator along with her young son, undeniably a Hux from his appearance although she attempted to shield him from associated guilt until his pale skin and red hair couldn't be hidden or explained away any longer. Unable to find an employer or any legal means of earning, she and Armitage had no home but the streets of Scaparus Port, the town where she had lived as a servant in the kitchens of  Brendol's ostentatious home. She is not in this story: perhaps she escaped off-world to some place she was unknown and could start her life over modestly and without visible reminders that she was once the lover of one of the most notorious war criminals in the galaxy. Armitage certainly likes to think of his mother living an easy life somewhere it hardly rains and food is cheap. Perhaps she will come for him one day. Some nights, that is the only thought that lets him sleep.

Armitage and a few of the younger students who escaped from the attacks on Brendol Hux’s notorious _Academy_ live from day to day as hardened survivors in a galaxy that has no place for them. If they are lucky, the day will end with full bellies and a soft, dry bed in an unguarded house. More often, they huddle for warmth in the forgotten corners and unnoticed shadows of the town.

A chance encounter brings Ben and Hux together and subsequent events change them both.  
There is nothing the Galaxy, the Force or the Skywalkers can do to change things back.


	2. Rain

Ben pulled his hood across his face against the constant drizzle, only to expose his ungloved hand to the cold instead. His face was set in the same dissatisfied scowl it had worn since disembarking the _Millennium Falcon_ a day earlier at the spaceport formed from the ruins of the old Arkanis Academy just down the ragged coastline from this sorry excuse for a town. The Academy had been sacked a handful of years ago, its students scattered and its masters imprisoned, but the two landing areas it owned were far too serviceable to destroy. Even the rebellious mob that had ransacked this feared monument to the Empire recognised the value in leaving an open invitation for others to visit their world and bring pockets brimming with credits to spend on proud Arkanis-made goods and shameful memorabilia.

“Mom, why do I have to be here. This planet sucks.”  
“You already asked me that twice, honey, and my answer hasn’t changed.” Leia smiled although she sighed at the way her boy’s bad mood frayed at her edges. “Dinner might help. It’s an official welcome reception so you’ll have to sit through some speeches but the food should be excellent.”  
“Do the locals breathe water instead of air? I hate this place. Imagine having to live on this kriffing planet.”  
“Language!” Leia chided, whilst silently agreeing. “Look, like it or not you are an Organa and a Skywalker and a Jedi-in-training. You will be one of the people who shapes the galaxy, like the old Jedi order before—“  
“You sound just like Uncle Luke.” Ben put on a voice that was a passable imitation of Leia’s brother. “Accept your place in the galaxy, Ben. Learn to serve with humility and strength. Use the Force to make the galaxy a better place. Blah blah blah.”  
That made Leia laugh and Ben giggled despite his determination to be miserable every second he had to suffer on this rain-sodden planet.

Leia took a few more paces in silence, judging Ben’s mood based as much on his body language as his emotional warping of the Force. She slipped her arm through his and said, “Tell me how you’re getting on, honey. I feel like I hardly see you now you’re Luke’s padawan.” Leia stole a glance up at her son’s profile. He slouched and evaded her gaze but she admired his strong features and early promise of a solid build. He must have got those from his father, she had decided years before, and his uncanny ability to direct the Force came from who-knows-where. They said it didn’t run in families, that the Skywalkers were a chance anomaly, but she wondered if perhaps it was too much of a coincidence that the Skywalkers were all so affected. A shiver ran up her spine and she pulled her cloak tighter and increased her pace. “Come on, let’s find somewhere warm. I’ll get us some caf and you can bring me up to date with how your skills are developing.”

There was a tourist cafe on the main street in Scaparus Port. It was called _Jasko’s_ to attract visitors although Jasko had vanished long ago when the supply of homesick young officers from the Academy dried up and his status as ex-Academy, even thrown out as a failure, made it impossible for him to make a living. Leia steered Ben to a table beyond the row of comm-link booths, all _Guaranteed Unmonitored! Buy tokens at the bar!_ By the time she returned with two steaming mugs of caf and a plate containing the biggest jogan fruit pastry Ben had ever goggled at, Ben had shed his outer cloak and hood and finger-combed his thick hair out of his face. Leia pushed the plate over and Ben grinned his thanks.

Predictably, Ben cheered up once he had eaten. Leia asked to see his padawan braid but he hid it amongst his unruly waves, muttering _Mo-o-om!_ and shying away when she reached her hand out to tuck a stray strand behind his ear.  
“Okay, I get it!” Leia laughed and sipped half-decent caf. “My boy is all grown up and doesn’t need his mom. Tell me about your training and I promise I will not fuss over you.”  
Ben smiled and blew across his drink. The top layer solidified into delicate fronds of frost then melted back into the murk below. Leia rolled her eyes.  
“Show off. Just like your father. What have you learned apart from party tricks?”  
“Han likes my force-freeze trick!” Ben took a few seconds to reheat his drink before continuing with more academic boasts. “I can force-hide and make people not notice me. That’s real useful when the younglings get annoying. And I can force-lift things. Small stuff so far but Uncle Luke says the principle is the same whether I lift a salt crystal or push a star destroyer, I just need to think bigger. And I’m learning to do that force-thought thing. You know.” Ben half-closed his eyes and waved a hand in a smooth horizontal motion, as if petting an invisible loth-cat. _”You want to let me go exploring on my own.”_  
Leia gave her son a sharp glare. “Ben Solo, don’t you EVER try that on me for real or you will find yourself force-grounded for a long time.”  
“Mo-o-om! I was kidding. Seriously, I’m way ahead of any of the others and I started later than some of them. Uncle Luke says I’m the most promising young Jedi he’s ever met. I think I can beat him one day too.”

Leia frowned at Ben’s prideful tone. She sighed and looked across the table at him. "Ben, honey, it’s not a competition. Not everything has to be vanquished. Isn’t it better for you all to appreciate that some of you have more natural ability than others, but that you can still all learn from one another?”  
Ben shrugged. “I guess. That’s what Uncle Luke says too. But I’m still totally the best. That’s why Luke picked me as his padawan.”  
”Is that what he said?” Leia arranged her thoughts carefully. Although Ben was her son, and strong with the Force, he was also a teenager and she did not want him picking up her doubt. Ben shrugged again.  
“No, but what other reason can there be? Why would he pick someone who wasn’t the best?”

There was a conference to prepare for and Leia did not have the time or the energy to try to teach her son a little humility right now. She gave him a look that made him frown and demand _”Wha-a-at?”_ in a descending, petulant tone. She wondered for a second, as she often did, whether Ben would have been better off without the family curse. She shook off the thought with a flick of her braids. At his age, she had been training for her role too and rebelled against the demands of Bail Organa and Queen Breha that she behave like a princess and learn skilful negotiation strategies and interplanetary politics. She had learned hard lessons, blamed her parents then forgiven them, and so would Ben. She smiled and finished her Caf.  
“Ben? Would you really like to go explore the town on your own?” Ben nodded and smiled back. “Okay then. Be back at the guest house in time to change for the reception. I want to present my son, the best padawan in living memory and Galactic Jedi Prodigy, to the new ambassador. And!” Ben paused, half out of his seat and met his mother’s stern gaze. “Don’t think for one single _second_ that your mind-trick worked on me.”

Ben wrapped up against the grey drizzle then ventured out of the cafe and into the street. Scaparus Port was not large, crammed between cliffs that hampered its spread and, predictably, its main industry was fishing. Tourism was relatively new to this town: cashing in on the distasteful history of its association with Brendol Hux and his notorious Academy had been a recent idea and only a few modest guest houses had so far sprung up around the harbour to accommodate New Republic voyeurs and Empire apologists alike. Ben hurried past the one that was to be their home for the next few days and set off along the front street, looking out over the harbour wall as if he could see anything. He soon stopped trying to focus. The blur where the grey sea merged with the grey sky confused his eyes and made him light headed. He walked up a steep side-street and found himself in a busier road with shops lining both sides. He passed tackle shops for tourists brave enough to test their skills in the dangerous waters where sometimes the fish bit more than bait, tidy cafes advertising _The best jogan fruit cake on the planet!_ although few commented on the quality of their caf, and trinket shops for tourists who wanted a memento of their trip. In one, Ben found old Academy uniforms and insignia, certificates of graduation to various ranks where a name of choice could be inscribed and holo-stamped for an extra fee, and pins identifying the wearer as a member of the _”Commandant’s Cadets”._  There was even a booth where you could have your smiling face added to a class photograph. He did not linger.

Interspersed with the tourist shops were stores for the genuine fishermen, selling net repair kits and protective, bulky waterproof clothing. There were bakeries that would pack you a few days’ worth of non-perishable food in wrapping impervious to salt water, and cafes that tourists would not dare enter: safe spaces where the men and women who risked their lives to bring the catch home huddled around hot, greasy food and bottomless caf, discussing their latest near misses and telling heroically tall tales that began, _”Hey, see this scar? Well, I was eight clicks out when…”_

It was just past such a cafe that Ben stepped into the doorway of an unused shopfront to shelter from a sudden downpour. He wasn’t alone. Another figure leaned against the wooden shutters and held his arms crossed around his body as if hugging warmth back into chilled bones. Ben took a second glance. The man, or perhaps he was a boy, wore old clothing that billowed around his spare frame. He had hair that looked brown in the gloom of the rain storm but promised fire if only the sun would light it up. Ben smiled.  
“You live here? Crap weather.”  
“Hah!” A man, Ben decided. “That is my misfortune. Got any credits? Only you look like you never skipped a meal and I often do. In fact I skipped breakfast and lunch so far today."  
“Uh?” Ben patted his robe and lied. “Um, no. Sorry.”  
“Oh come on,” the woebegone young man’s tone turned pleading, “you must have. If you don’t want to give me credits in case I spend them unwisely, at least buy me a day pack from that bakery.”  
Ben frowned, shook his head and stepped back into the deluge rather than try to justify to the beggar and to himself why he would not part with any of the credits he’d earned from his father by helping out with servicing _The Falcon._

Soaked within seconds, Ben hurried back to the guest house where Leia would be getting ready, reading over her notes and rehearsing her speech. Han was in the reception area when Ben burst through the door, water streaming from his hem and his hair. Han laughed. “Is it raining out?”  
“Ugh!” From his sleeves Ben shook fat drops that splashed on the tiled floor, then giggled and held out his arms. “Hug!”  
“Oh no! No way.” Han took a step back and held his palms up as if to block. “Take off as much as you dare here and hurry on up to your room. Your mother will kill you if you’re not ready in time. Actually—” Han passed a keycard to Ben. “Use mine, I have an ensuite sansiteam. Not that you need any more water.”  
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Ben deadpanned but took the keycard and let his robe, heavy with rainwater, slop to the floor. He toed off his squelching shoes too and gathered up the sorry bundle before padding barefoot towards the stairs.

The sanisteam was excellent. Ben felt warmth return to his bones and thought for a moment about the beggar he had encountered. He heard the room door open and close again, and his father’s heavy tread on the floor, as he finished towelling his hair. There was knock on the door and Han’s voice came muffled through the wood.  
“You done yet?”  
“Yeah, be out in a minute!”  
“Don’t take all day over your hair, handsome. Some of us have schedules to keep.”  
“Okay!" Ben’s exasperated tone met Han’s lopsided grin when he wrenched the door open. Ben sighed. “A kid, a man I guess, tried to get credits from me in town.”  
“What!” Han was alert immediately. “Did he threaten you? Try to rob you?”  
“No! Da-a-ad, no. He said I looked like I never had to miss a meal and he needed credits for food.”  
“Oh.” Han relaxed. “So what did you do?”  
“Nothing. If he needs money he should go earn it like everyone else has to.”  
Han stared in silence, jaw tight. Ben picked up on his anger almost immediately and faced it head on. “Well what was I supposed to do?” Han didn’t answer but his anger dissipated into disappointment and that was worse. Ben felt his face flame and he threw his energy into towelling off his hair again.  
“Son.” Han waited, but Ben did not respond to his soft tone so he tried sharpness. “Ben!”  
Ben raised his face and finger-combed his mane. “What.”  
“You are _the_ most overprivileged son of a bastard - and I mean that literally - on this planet. Your mother is royalty, and a hero of the resistance. Your father is one of the luckiest guys alive. Your uncle blew up the Death Star and runs the New Jedi Order and now you’re his star pupil. You get to zip around the galaxy on a whim with no need to worry about where your next jogan fruit is coming from or where you’re going to sleep tonight. You think you were _born deserving_ all of that just because of who _you_ are?” Han stopped for breath but Ben remained silent and looking down. “Imagine a different life, Ben. Imagine how easy it would be for all of this to vanish. You think you’re invincible because you’re a Jedi? Read your history, son. You think being a prince of a dead planet is what keeps the wampa from the door?”  
Ben’s voice was small and miserable. _”No, dad.”_  
“I tell you, I’ve seen it _all._ I’ve seen rich folks enslaved and sent to mine spice. I’ve seen promising youngsters pressed into working for gangs because their parents took unwise loans. I’ve seen entire species almost obliterated. You might want to ask Uncle Chewie about his family one day. So don’t—“ Han paused to get his voice back in order. “Don’t come here and tell me you couldn’t perform one measly act of charity. What’s a couple of credits to you?” Han shook his head. “Get dressed. I’ll go see if your mom’s finished lecturing the lamp stand yet.”

Face still burning, promising himself that he would _never_ tell his father _anything ever again,_ Ben went to his own room and sat on the bed. His formal outfit was laid out for him and he crumpled it onto the floor in shame and rage. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes then slapped his leg hard until it gave him stinging pain to focus his emotions. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to come running to find out why he was upset and join in with thoughts of how he was the family failure. In seconds he saw with clarity what he should do next, and it was so simple he almost laughed! Ben gathered up his formal attire and smoothed it out on the bedspread again, then put on ordinary clothes. He packed his holdall with most of the rest of his spare clothing, pocketed his supply of credits, checked the state of the weather by poking his face out of the window, and slipped unnoticed from the guest house. Only his mother would miss him and he knew that she would understand.

The rain had paused rather than stopped and the darkening sky retained its blanket of cloud. The sun struggled to penetrate and little light filtered through, yet it was too early for the clouds to be lit from below with yellow-orange light from the sodium vapour lamps that lined the main streets. Ben retraced his path from earlier and even visited one of the bakery shops that was still open, but the beggar had moved on. He cursed this fundamental flaw in his plan until a voice behind flooded his chest with relief and he turned.  
“Oh it’s the rich boy with no credits. Don’t worry, no need to get yourself soaked again. I won’t ask twice for what you're not willing to give.”  
Ben tried to smile but it came out all wrong. He looked at the man’s face and a low shaft of rare sunlight slanted in from somewhere distant that had a break in the cloud cover, lighting up startling red hair and pale green eyes. He lost track of the words he had rehearsed in his head. Instead of speaking, he held out his bag of clothing. The beggar looked at him in confusion and that gave Ben his confidence back.  
“I’m, uh, sorry I was such a dick earlier. I brought you some clothes and a one week food parcel and some credits. It’s not much but it’s what I can spare right now. What’s your name?” The beggar stared at him and Ben felt naked under his scrutiny.  
“I will take the credits and the food but I don’t usually accept castoffs,” he said with a haughty tone quite incongruous with his appearance. He looked in the holdall and felt the soft fabrics. “However, I will take these. They might fit some of the others.” Ben handed over his credit chips, making the beggar raise his eyebrows as he turned away as if keen to make his escape before his benefactor could have second thoughts.  
“What others? What's your name?” Ben repeated more slowly, his voice soothing and his hand stroking the air, _tell me your name_. The beggar frowned and half turned, shaking his head. Ben did not dare try his nascent mind-trick skills again, but the man turned fully and stuck out his hand.  
“You can call me Armitage.” Ben lingered over the handshake, Armitage’s touch sent a jolt up his arm and pushed the air from his lungs the way his lightsaber did when he misjudged a parry. He half-squeaked his reply.  
“I’m Ben Or— Ben Solo.”  
“Well Ben or Ben Solo,” Armitage smiled. “My troopers get to eat tonight. Would you care to join us for dinner?” Ben smiled back and nodded. “Well then. You had better follow me and try to keep up.”

Ben was about to offer a retort, but the man called Armitage was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (oops, had to do a stealth-edit on time elapsed since Arkanis Academy was attacked because I didn't think the timeline through clearly enough)


	3. Wind

Ben’s yell of _”Hey, wait for me!”_ was answered by a laugh in the wind. He looked around, hair whipping at his face, but Armitage was nowhere to be seen. Ben closed his eyes tight, disappointment bitter in his throat, and concentrated on the rushing wind in his ears. He stood still in the midst of the clanging shutters of businesses shutting up shop for the night and people hurrying past, heads flooded with images of warm hearths and comfort food. A force-user watching might have seen Ben slip into silent meditation while people scurried around him without even noticing he was there. It took him about thirty seconds to sense the same pattern of gratitude and uncertainty that he had sensed in the beggar, and he opened his eyes. Armitage was watching him from a doorway a few metres up a narrow side street. Ben looked around to make sure nobody paid him any regard and walked like a local: hood up, head down, eyes on feet that took short, rapid steps just short of a run.

“What were you doing back there? You looked like you were going to cry and then I lost you in the crowd. I said keep up!” Armitage turned and marched uphill away from the harbour and the winding-down main street. Ben followed for about a mile, trotting for a few seconds whenever Armitage strode too far ahead, staying too far behind to be heard above the weather. Ben soon lapsed into one of the force drills Uncle Luke said he should practise whenever he had a spare few minutes. He remained aware of Armitage a few paces ahead but he let his eyes defocus and he stretched out, sending imaginary tendrils out around him to sense whatever he could from the Force. Or perhaps he was the one letting the force-strands in, he thought with a start when the realisation that he had lost Armitage again bumped him out of his meditation. A whistle and a laugh made him turn. He caught a flash of ginger hair disappearing through gaps in the slats that imperfectly secured the door of a small, brick workshop against the likes of Armitage and, by association, Ben.

Inside it was dark. There were square windows high up but these were small and little of the fading daylight penetrated years of built-up grime. Armitage took Ben’s hand after his second stumble and led him slowly through the maze of abandoned machinery to what may once have been offices, with timely warnings of steps and corners. Ben shook off Armitage’s grip once they entered the first of several smallish, boxy rooms where a single candle burned yellow inside a dusty cut glass tumbler with a long crack running from rim to base. Armitage laughed and pointed.  
“I promised dinner, but not candles. You should be honoured.” He set his bags of clothing and food down, stuck his head through the other door of the dusty room and called, “Fall in, Troopers! We eat well tonight.”

Scrawny kids and hollow-faced young adults filed in and stood in a triple row facing Armitage, tallest at the back and smallest in front. Ben pressed his back against the wall while Armitage scanned his ranks and frowned. He nodded to someone just beyond Ben’s vision. “Captain, roll call.”  
Ben watched a slender, tall young woman step forward and call names, checking off a tally on her fingers. Each name elicited the response _yes, captain Phasma!_ One name she repeated twice and received silence.  
“Effen.” No response. “Effen?” The smallest kid in the front row shuffled feet. Phasma stood in front of the shuffler. “Where and when did you last see Effen, Nines? Your orders were to stay together.” The child called Nines sniffled then was silent. Phasma sighed and murmured to Armitage, “Arm, this is the third time he’s wandered off. When he’s found he’s on close supervision for a week. I can’t risk sending troopers out to look for him tonight. Word in _The Bait and Tackle_ is that there’s a storm blowing in.”  
“Well,” Armitage shrugged. “I agree, captain.” He turned his attention to another of the rank-and-file. ”Lieutenant, please explain patrol protocol to our guest.”  
A pale, dark-haired boy of about Ben’s age, but without the benefit of adequate nutrition to stretch his bones and bulk his muscles, snapped his head up as if he had only just noticed Ben watching the strange scene.  
“Yes, general! Troopers must work in pairs. In the event of a pair getting separated, each must find their way back to base independently. If it is not possible to return to base, the trooper must make themself as safe as possible and return as soon as they are able.”  
“Very good, Mitaka! You will be an excellent general one day.”  
The boy called Mitaka dropped his gaze and smiled at his scuffed boots. The meagre candlelight was not sufficient, but Ben thought the boy blushed at the compliment. 

Armitage clapped his hands. “Reports. I will begin. I have some credits, some decent clothes that will fit the senior officers, and a one-week ration pack so we all eat tonight. I will distribute the clothing according to need and pool the credits with whatever else we have today. Anyone else?”  
Hands forested up. Phasma coordinated the replies and fetching of food and other goods that the ‘troopers’ had obtained during the day. Armitage was free with his praise, including the troopers who had been confined to base with duties such as preparing sleeping areas and mending leaky shutters. In the case of domestic work, Armitage conducted a brief inspection of corners cleared of spiders and mice, and declared his troopers’ work to be exemplary. Pride glowed warm in the young hearts of Armitage’s ragtag band of thieves and Ben realised with indignant envy that these youngsters would follow anywhere their _general_ chose to lead.

Their dinner was the strangest meal Ben had ever shared. Everyone lined up to receive a single shrink-wrapped meal pack from the sack then scurried away to eat it alone, hunched over, bolting their rations down without a word to their neighbours. Phasma took two, explaining that Effen would no doubt be hungry when he turned up. Ben went last, after Armitage. There was one pack left for him. He put it down again.  
“Armitage, I can’t take your food. You were right about me, I never have to—“  
“Eat it.” Armitage thrust the pack at Ben. “I invited you to share a meal and you will eat with us.”  
Ben detected an edge in Armitage’s voice that reminded him of Han when he was on the point of doing something wrong but his father wanted to give him the chance to change course. He took the package and broke the seal, letting air suck in and puff up the contents. Ben caught Armitage watching him pick over the rations inside, Armitage’s jaws working at a too-large mouthful and his hand catching a stray morsel and returning it to his lips. Ben pushed down his disgusted fascination at the sight and scooped a palmful of dried _something_ into his mouth. He sucked on it and chewed when it softened. It tasted of the sea. Armitage swallowed and grinned.  
“Well then, Trooper Ben. What do you think of our lodgings?”

Ben did not reply. Armitage finished his meal and two troopers collected up all the wrappers, inspected them and made the thick, waxed paper into tight twists, showing one of the younger kids what they were doing and laughing at his weak-fingered attempts to copy, then showing him again. Ben frowned and Armitage nodded at their quiet industry.  
“For a fire if we need one. They burn pretty well, although not for long. We should be okay tonight but if it gets too cold or if Effen shows up soaked we will need a drying room. Half of our efforts are aimed at not dying of exposure or hunger or getting caught.”  
Ben frowned at Armitage. “What do you mean? If you get caught won’t the younger ones go to some kind of home? Surely only you and the older ones would face prison. At least you’d be fed and sheltered there.”  
Armitage scrambled to his feet. “You are a fool, Ben Solo, if you think the good citizens of Arkanis would take in any of my troopers. Even the sympathetic ones have an image to maintain. Join me for final inspection.” He reached a hand out to help Ben up. “It will be dark soon. I will check everyone is settled then escort you out.”

Ben’s indignant retort was silenced by Armitage’s hand over his mouth. Someone extinguished the single candle and the room tumbled into darkness. Ben listened. Footsteps came from the workshop: there was a clatter and a curse as the interloper stumbled over unfamiliar territory. Ben pulled Armitage’s hand from his mouth, silently stepped over to the gap where a door once hung, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The footsteps faltered and stopped. Ben edged closer, wrenching away from Armitage’s grip, and willed with all his being for the dark shape to leave and not come back. He waved his hand slowly.

_…nothing here nothing to report you want to go home where it is warm and safe…_

Incredibly, the figure muttered _Ugh nothing here. What a dump,_ slowly turned and retraced its steps . Ben followed, watching until the shape left through the gap in the slats barricading the entrance and merged into the evening gloom with with the spray from the rain. As soon as Ben stepped back inside, Armitage pushed him back out.  
“You need to go. Don’t look for us here, we’ll be gone.” Ben held Armitage’s gaze for a few seconds and nodded. Armitage smiled and spoke quietly, “See you around.” When Ben looked back from a few steps down the street, the doorway was dark and empty with no telltale gaps. He walked quickly away with a strange feeling growing in his belly, an odd combination of hope that he would encounter Armitage again, and regret that he probably would not. He fell asleep in a warm, dry bed still thinking of red hair and sea-grey eyes and how under different circumstances they might have become good friends.

 

Next morning, Leia demanded explanations. She understood although she was still angry, not because of Ben’s poorly thought out act of charity but because of the risk he had taken in chasing after a stranger in a strange town. Over caf and pastries in the small guest house breakfast room, she made Ben relate every detail of his evening, and Han listened in with growing amusement at Leia’s poorly-hidden fascination. Clearly Ben’s evening had been far more entertaining than her own.

Their plans for the day were non-negotiable. Ben was to remain either with Leia or with Han. He could accompany his mother on her diplomatic tour of Scaparus Port and its struggling fishing industry then tag along on a tour of the remains of _Arkanis Academy_ to see how the local officials were trying to shore up their failing economy by adapting to emerging markets. Ben yawned at the prospect until Leia snapped that instead he could help his father clean out the hold of _The Falcon_ before he went on his next freight run. After breakfast Han even accompanied Ben to his room to get ready while Leia used her comm-link to update her assistant on the progress of her diplomatic efforts.

Han tried to make light of things. “Hah! Your mother is used to far more serious matters,” he explained as Ben shook out his almost-dry outer cloak. “Back in the day, diplomatic missions were matters of life and death, not to decide whether or not a planet deserves a tax break.” Ben nodded absently. Han walked around the room and looked out of the small window that gave a glimpse across the harbour if you craned your neck and looked from just the right angle. “You probably think peace is boring but it’s nice knowing that your mom isn’t likely to get into trouble.”  
“Mmhmm,” agreed Ben without really listening. Han carefully observed the fishing boats beached by the tide, sharp splintered wood showing how battles were lost to the elements and to the monstrous, predatory fish that competed for smaller fish, accidentally finding conflict with the humans and their nets.  
“I mean, if you’re really bored learning about diplomacy here I could use a co-pilot on my next run. You want to sit in Uncle Chewie’s chair? Learn your old dad’s business?”  
Ben looked up, delight bubbling to his surface. “Really? You’d let me do that?”  
Han turned at last, smiling with relief. He slouched against the window ledge and cooled his manner before speaking, “Sure, kid. Sure. Why not. I guess you’re old enough to graduate from speeders, and Luke was only nineteen when he flew an X-Wing. You’re… You’re—”  
“Da-a-ad, I’m sixteen!”  
“I know, kid!” Han laughed. “We can as— tell your mom later.”

Han left first to spend the whole day preparing _The Falcon_ to be his home, and Ben’s, for the next few weeks. Ben sat near Leia and practised his Force-drills, using the Force to shift her things around until she told him to stop it. Soon their escort arrived and Ben walked a metre behind his mother and their guide. The tour of the harbour was brief because the remains of the overnight storm still blew out in unpredictable squalls. Talks came next and Ben tuned out, feeling around the Force for anything interesting. He focused first on the people in the room. His mother he ignored because she would detect any prying immediately and her wrath, although always short lived, could be intense. The man opposite her, the one with the ingratiating smile, exuded desperation and his assistant’s eyes flicked nervously between Leia, the man chosen to present Arkanis as deserving of the New Republic’s generosity, and her own fingers tapping at her datapad. Ben found her far more interesting and focused his attention more tightly, feeling for her emotions and reactions to the discussion taking place. Over a buffet lunch of crisp seaweed, plump fish and grey bread, a combination that managed to be less appetising than his dinner the previous night, Ben leaned close to Leia and murmured, _”What’s she so scared of?”_  
Leia leaned close too and replied under her breath, _”Change. The New Republic isn’t able to move quickly enough to help them. They’d have the Empire back in a heartbeat if they promised fast cash.”_

There was a rare glimpse of blue above by the time the Organa family reached the biggest Imperial relic on Arkanis. Ben jumped out of their transport and offered his mother a hand and a smile. She returned a suspicious glare but accepted help anyway. They were escorted past a line of tourists who gazed in awe at the ruined grandeur of the Empire’s most notorious officer training facility. A slim, dark-haired boy in some kind of uniform worked the line, offering extra details for a few credits, while a dark-skinned boy of maybe ten or twelve used the distraction to lighten their pockets further. Ben almost called out - he was so surprised and so close to a yell that Leia turned to make sure he was okay - but he stopped himself before vocalising the warning that there was a pickpocket. The dark-haired boy saw him and froze, but Ben shook his head and held his finger to his lips. _Mitaka,_ thought Ben. _I don’t recognise that kid, hope it’s Effen back safely._  
Leia frowned with concern at her son’s shift in mood from bored acceptance to furtive alertness to relieved calm. “Honey? What’s wrong?”  
Ben turned and smiled. “Sorry, mom. Thought I saw something but I didn’t. Like, a face I knew or something.”  
“Oh. Okay.” Leia stroked Ben’s hair and he let her. “Look, we’re going in now! Please, try to be polite and remember it’s all just a horror show now.”  
Ben smiled a promise he doubted he would keep and looked down the line again but Mitaka and his accomplice were gone.

The tour left a bad taste in Ben’s mouth and he sensed his mother’s growing discomfort at the way their tour guide revelled in graphic descriptions of how members of the _Commandant’s Cadets_ earned their badges. The visit to the lower levels, intact since most of the destructive powers of the local militia had focused on the tower referred to as _Area Null,_ sickened Ben even more. He saw the place that the Empire had allowed children to be kept while they were conditioned to be soldiers, and he thought of Nines and Effen perhaps having been down here, learning to kill without question. Ben knew life with _General_ Armitage and _Captain_ Phasma was hard on the children in their ranks of ‘Troopers’, but life and death down here as child soldiers must have been unbearable for those who were, as the guide said, _recruited as infants._ Meanwhile, Leia thought of Ben and how different his life might have been if that force-ghoul Snoke had been clever. Again, she relived the moment Snoke’s head had left his shoulders, bounced and rolled, wound cauterised by Luke’s lightsaber, and shivered with disgust that it had made her stronger to feel him die.

Ben excused himself and slipped back up to open skies to breathe. He leaned against a wall, a broken slab providing a ridge on which to sit and contemplate his own luck and his father’s words. Han, he admitted with reluctance, had been right and that irritated him. The biggest problems he had ever had to face were deciding which kyber crystal looked purest, and persuading a new youngling to stop following him around and go play with the other kids.  
“Sir!” A sharp voice made Ben jump and he turned to see the young man from the tourist line. Ben frowned, name forgotten in his surprise.  
“Ah! Um, lieutenant?”  
“Yes, sir. Mitaka, sir. The General told us what you did yesterday. Thank you. He said not to rob you or your family.”  
“What,” Ben smiled slowly, “Even if we are rich and lucky?”  
“Um. Even. Yes.” Mitaka shifted his feet. Ben reached down with a sudden dart of his arm and caught a small hand in his pocket. He looked around at the owner of the hand.  
“Huh. Lemme think. Are you the one called Effen?” The boy glanced at Mitaka then nodded. Ben smiled. “I am glad you are safe, Effen.” He looked at Mitaka and sighed.  
“You don’t need to do this today. My mom is here so there’s security everywhere and I gave Armitage enough credits to keep you all fed for a few days. Please. Go somewhere safe and just—” Ben sighed again. “Just stay alive.”

Leia arrived at ground level half an hour later, looking drained. She pointed at their transport and uttered one word: _Back._ She was silent for the entire trip back to Scaparus Port. Their guide attempted conversation a few times but gave up. Ben sneaked his hand into Leia’s and felt her smile at the touch although she was far from calm. When their guide finally left them with a cheerful smile and a wave and a reminder to _help us move on by remembering our history_ Leia held Ben tightly.  
“Oh those children! Ben, oh my boy, I am so glad you didn’t come with us for the whole tour! You didn’t see. What they did to those children.” Leia took a deep, shuddering breath. “Well. Mmmh. That’s over. It’s over.”  
“Yes,” replied Ben before he could stop his mouth. “I wonder what happened to them all? I mean when the Academy was ‘liberated’.”  
Leia only held her son tighter. That had been the most disturbing part of all.

Han was soon back to take Leia's mind off current issues and Ben drifted up to his room quietly. He had considered going out in search of Armitage tonight but emotional exhaustion robbed him of clarity of thought. He scanned his keycard and pushed open his room door, turned and closed it, pausing with his forehead against polished plywood. After a minute, the comm in his room chimed for attention and he answered it.  
“Huh?”  
“Good evening. Is this Ben Solo?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“There’s a small package waiting for you in reception.”  
Ben frowned as the comm cut off with a crackle. He trotted downstairs to the reception desk and the receptionist handed him a small brown paper bag. He looked at it, turning it over in his fingers and reading the logo on the front: a Galactic Empire symbol stamped in black ink, overwritten with the words _Imperial Souvenirs_ in deep red.  
“Who brought this?” Ben asked the receptionist.  
The man shrugged. “Some blonde girl. Said she worked in a shop and you left this behind when you were shopping yesterday.”  
“Oh.” Ben looked inside then closed the bag and stuffed it in his pocket. “Um, thanks.”  
He raced back upstairs and made sure the door closed behind him before taking the bag out again. He arranged the bag and its contents: one souvenir _Commandant’s Cadets_ pin and a receipt, on his bed. On the back of the receipt in neat, cramped letters, there was a message.  
_Hope you’re worth this investment. Come tonight. A_

It was not quite evening and Ben thought it likely that the local shopkeepers would be open still for late afternoon tourists and busy workers on their way home. He hid the pin, note and bag under his mattress, gathered what remained of his credits and called to his parents from the landing outside their rooms that he was going out to clear his head. The streets were even busier than Ben expected. A rare dry afternoon promised to stretch into evening and Scaparus Port seemed transformed. Yellow-white light filtered through breaks in the cloud cover, steel grey now a friendly white scudding across blue sky like herds of gualamas running across open pasture. Ben thought the town looked almost welcoming. He found the souvenir shop easily but walked past it three times without going in. On his fourth pass, Ben felt a presence behind him.  
“I know you’re there,” he said without turning. Two figures passed him, one on either side, and Ben recognised some of his clothing altered to fit smaller frames. The dark-haired girl glanced back at him and smiled. Her companion stared at his feet the way most locals did when walking around town. Even on a nice day, habits formed by bad weather were hard to break.

After a long walk almost to the edge of town where squashed buildings and narrow streets ran into the cliff, they reached another abandoned place. This one looked as if it had once held a social function, with a squat tower and a blocky shape that would have kept a community safe inside and the weather outside. There were what might have been faded blaster marks on the grey stone facade and the jagged glass of the tiny, square windows characteristic of Arkanis architecture had long since been replaced by brick and wood. The way in was via a low door that led to a fuel storage bunker, hidden by overgrown blue-spiked seathistle and tall grasses that quickly developed pale flowers and pollen to take advantage of the brief, dry breeze. Once he had squeezed through the internal hatch, Ben’s eyes took time to adjust to the poor light. Most of the inside space was taken by a large hall with pillars supporting the roof and a large fireplace with fallen masonry in the hearth. One corner let in light from where storms had got the better of the roof tiles. Something scurried over his foot and Ben jumped and almost shrieked. 

“It’s just a rat, Ben Solo.” Armitage appeared from a doorway where light flickered. “They’re only dangerous if you let them live. Thanisson? Unamo?” Ben’s guides snapped to attention. Armitage nodded once. “Clear the vermin.”  
The girl saluted when she passed Armitage into the welcoming light behind and returned with a blaster pistol in each hand. She handed one to Thanisson. Both grinned and chanted, “Yes, sir!”  
Armitage beckoned Ben over. “Best stay out of the way. Unamo’s pretty good but Than needs practice. Wouldn’t want one of his pot-shots taking out our honoured knight.”  
Ben wasn’t sure where to start. _You have blasters?_ was too obvious and he thought Armitage would laugh. He settled on, “Knight?”  
Armitage took Ben’s arm and led him back into what was one a kitchen. “Yes. Silly, isn’t it? They have not decided what you are a knight _of,_ exactly, but to them you are a knight and you better accept the title graciously.”  
Ben shrugged. “Guess I better, now I know you have blasters.”  
Armitage laughed at that, but in a way that made Ben feel warm. 

Ben watched as Armitage poked around the kitchen for anything useful. He perched on a bench and swung his feet, listening out for the pop-fizz of the blaster pistols and the laughter of the rat-patrol. He relaxed after a few minutes of being ignored and asked, “So, can I ask you some stuff?”  
“Fire away,” replied Armitage, brandishing a large metal pan. “DOPH! WATER DUTY!”  
Mitaka appeared from behind Ben and took the pan by both handles. He sighed. “Fire won’t light, sir. Fuel got damp and—“  
“I can help!” Ben slid onto his feet and took a step towards Mitaka. “Show me.”  
Mitaka looked at Armitage and waited for a nod. He led Ben through to the other backroom, where a fireplace had been fashioned below another hole in the roof. Ben frowned. “Aren’t you worried someone will see the light from your fire?”  
Mitaka glared. “I checked vey thoroughly, sir. We’re cliffside and there is no one to do the seeing.”  
“Oh!” Ben nodded. “Of course.” He sat on the cold flagstones, holding his hands above the modest pile of paper-wrapper twists and closed his eyes. He felt the water on the paper, warmed it by taking energy from the stone and earth under him, stole more energy from the air and even a little from Mitaka who felt a sudden chill and shivered. The paper burst into flame. Mitaka stacked more fuel around the new fire to let it dry then called for Nines and Effen to come look after it.

From the doorway, Armitage clapped slowly. He was not smiling. “That’s a useful trick. Mind telling me where you learned it?”  
Ben shrugged. “I thought my braid and robe would give it away. You called me a knight but I’m not there yet. I am a padawan in the New Jedi Order.”  
“A Jedi. Huh.” Armitage still denied warmth. “I should probably kill you.”  
Ben stood and turned slowly to face Armitage. He swallowed and wiped his palms on his robe. In as steady a voice as he could manage, he asked, “Do you intend to try?”  
“Mmm. What else can you do?”  
“I made that guy go away last night at the workshop. I’m no threat to you or your troopers, Armitage. I want to help.”  
“Well. I will consult with Phasma my co-commander as to your fate. Mitaka, take the cadets out while it’s still dry and find a soft-headed tourist to buy them ice-cream. I will see to the water supply.” 

Armitage busied himself with the fireplace and the pan. He glanced at Ben and asked, “I don’t suppose your Jedi skills involve water purification?” Ben shook his head. “Ah, shame. Maybe you can work on that. Driving out rats?” Ben giggled at a _popfizz-bastard!_ from the main hall and shook his head again. Armitage smiled at last. “Well, we will just have to work with what we’ve got. So you want to help us. Very noble, oh knight sir Ben. What help do you think we need from you?”

Ben was at a loss. He mentioned the clothes, food and credits but Armitage pointed out that such a particular act of charity, by its nature, was a one-off. Ben had nothing more to add and sat cross-legged on the chilly floor while Armitage used a crude water filter to clean the grit from collected rainwater, poured it into the pan and then set it on bricks over the fire. Once happy that the fire would not die, Armitage sat facing Ben. He sighed and Ben saw him clench his fists so tightly that even in this light he could see white knuckles.  
“Do you know why my troopers are afraid of Jedi?” The question was abrupt. Ben shook his head. “I suppose your history would gloss over what the Jedi order did to their enemies.”  
“Old order,” corrected Ben. “I am a padawan in the New Jedi Order.”  
“Same difference. Jedi are not trustworthy. They infiltrated the academy and—” Armitage bit his lip and looked down. When he raised his head again, Ben thought the firelight that flashed in his eyes was the most dangerously beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.  
“Tell me about yourself.” Ben smiled encouragingly although his heart thumped and he struggled to control his voice. He closed his eyes and took two calming breaths, slowly directing the Force in the air between them. _”You want to tell me about your life and about the troopers.”_

Armitage blinked a few times rapidly and sagged. Ben gathered more of the Force and directed it towards Armitage. _”You want to tell me everything about yourself.”_  
Armitage smiled and nodded, repeating lazily, “I will tell you...” In the next instant Armitage was on his feet.  
“Nice try, Jedi. Mind tricks are for the weak and I am stronger than you know. Tell you what. If you want to know who we are and how you can help us, then you stay and learn from us. Live this life and see for yourself.”  
Ben stared at Armitage. “Stay?”  
“For… a month.”  
Behind Ben the pan boiled over and put the fire out. Armitage cursed but Ben walked over to their tainted rainwater barrel and plunged his arm in up past the elbow. In half a minute the water was boiling around Ben’s skin and in half a minute more water vapour filled the room and condensed on cold stone. Ben retracted his arm and shook it off as if he had not just been scalded in a barrel of boiling water.  
“There. I think you will still need to filter it but I killed anything alive in there. I could feel it.”  
Armitage raised an eyebrow. “Nice trick, knight. You made it even rain _indoors._ Tomorrow, either get off my planet and never think of us again, or wait by the harbour. Someone will be watching you.”

Ben nodded and left the way he had come in, pricking himself on the tough seathistle. On his way back to the guest house, the only thought occupying his higher thoughts was not _what_ he should do, but _how._


	4. Blue Sky

“Sneaking around, again, son?” Ben startled at the sound of his father’s voice, but Han laughed. “The receptionist said a blonde girl came looking for you earlier. Do we need to have a talk?”  
“Ugh, da-a-ad, no!” Ben felt equally relieved and repelled by his father’s misreading of the situation. “It was nothing. I just went out to meet someone.”  
“Someone you should introduce to mom and pop?” Han grinned at Ben’s epic eye roll.  
“No,” Ben replied. “It wasn’t a date.”  
“Oh, not a date. I see. Just two people sneaking out to meet up without telling their parents.”  
“Whatever,” Ben sighed and stared Han down. He smirked. “Maybe that’s what counted as a date back in your day, but I like to think I can do better.”  
Han raised his eyebrows. “You think your old dad can’t show a lady-friend a good time? Your mom hasn’t complained about lack of romance!”  
“Yeah, well, I heard you two having a romantic chat earlier. Is _scruffy looking nerf-herder_ a traditional Alderranian term of endearment?”  
Han couldn't help laughing. “Why, you cheeky little… Fine. I will withhold all further fatherly wisdom on this matter. Good luck, son. Go to bed - we have an early start.” Han stood up from the small sofa opposite the reception desk where he had waited for his missing son to come back. Ben sighed and bit his lip as he turned away. Han punched his shoulder. “You okay?”  
“Yeah. My ‘date’ told me there’s a real homeless problem here. Like, kids living on the streets only they have to hide because… actually I’m not sure why. I saw a couple of street kids earlier. But when I suggested they might find foster homes if they turned themselves in I got called an idiot.”  
Han paused and frowned, watching Ben’s face, and softened. “Ben, come and tell your mom what you know of this. It kinda fits with something she said after her diplomatics this evening.”

Ben followed his father up to his mother’s room. He told Leia as much as he dared about the _Troopers_ and his conversation with Armitage. It was not much and short on detail but Leia sighed and nodded.  
“Yes. I asked this evening about the plight of the children from the academy - both the young trainee officers and the recr… those kids from the basement levels. Not a single record of them exists, despite what we both felt down there. I was informed that there were no cadets under the age of sixteen present when the Academy was attacked by the local militia, and that no trainee officers survived.”  
Ben snorted. “You could tell that was a lie, right?”  
Leia nodded and leaned forward. “Ben, I am going to spend a few days staying with the ambassador at her house and I see the trade secretary and the finance minister for talks tomorrow after you guys leave, and I will get to the bottom of this. I promise. If any children survived—“  
“If? IF?” Ben tossed his hair and glared at his mother. “Of course they did! They’re living on the streets, terrified in case they’re found out!”  
“Ben,” Leia kept her voice calm and quiet, making placating gestures with her hands. “Please, there is a diplomatic solution. There must be records somewhere sealed away. From what I have found out about Arkanis Academy, there has to be a secondary strongroom down there. I was told that the records office in Area Null was torched and all students and recruit details destroyed, but that can’t have been the only data storage for such a vital establishment. I will find out the truth.”  
“Yeah,” muttered Ben, “slowly.” In a firmer tone, he asked, “How long will it take for the New Republic to act and save these street kids?”  
Leia blinked. “Ben, be patient. I need hard facts. Politics is—“  
“Too slow! Mom, these kids could be found sleeping in doorways and abandoned boatyards _tonight_ and slaughtered and nobody would know or care. What’s the point of politics, of the New Republic, if it can’t protect the people who can’t protect themselves? You saw how young they took _recruits_. Babies and toddlers. Some of the survivors might be only just teenagers, or younger, if they were helped to get out by the older ones.”  
Leia sat forward and threw her arms wide. “So what do you suggest, Ben Organa Solo? How do we change the attitudes of those who would rather kill than forgive? Quickly? By force? I tell you, that way leads to darkness.”  
“DARK! LIGHT!” Ben stood and pointed at his mother. “IF ONE WON’T HELP MAYBE THE OTHER—“  
Suddenly Han was in Ben’s face. “DON’T YOU YELL AT YOUR MOTHER BEN SOLO!”  
Ben’s face reddened with his frustration. He clenched his fists and stamped out of the room, across the hall and into his own room, where he knelt on his bed and punched his pillows until his arms hurt then lay face down sobbing into them.

 

Early, Ben packed what little remained of his clothes and met Han downstairs for a very quick breakfast of chugged caf and pastry on the move. Despite the rare good weather, they took a transport to the small spaceport where the _Millennium Falcon_ waited for her minimal crew, barely exchanging a word. Once on board, Han began checks and Ben went to his usual quarters. He loosened a floor panel and felt around until he found what he wanted, stashed the cylinder in his bag, and went to find Han in the engine bay. Han looked up. Ben smiled and shook his head to toss the hair out of his eyes.  
“Dad, I feel bad for leaving mom here. I guess she’s right - I do need to learn more about politics and diplomacy.”  
“No kidding!” Han smiled. “You change your mind about a six week mission to haul fuel filters and life support sundries around the galaxy?” Ben nodded, face serious. Han laughed. “Sure, kid. You got credits for a transport back to town? I’m kinda busy.”  
“Yeah I guess. You’re not mad at me for bailing?”  
Han met Ben’s nervous gaze and smiled. He took a step forward and hugged Ben close. “No. Of course not. You made a good decision, son, so go learn politics from your mom. There will be plenty time to learn nerf-herding from me later.”  
Ben laughed and hugged back. He sauntered down the ramp and out of the spaceport to find a figure waiting for him.

“Well then,” Armitage said with a smile. “You are joining us. I’m surprised. I thought you would be in hyperspace by now.”  
“I’m not saluting you as a _general,_ Armitage.” Ben felt for his credit chip. “Come with me on the transport back to town.”  
“No,” Armitage took Ben’s arm and steered him away from the transport stop. “Waste of scarce credits on a day like today and now you’re one of us those credits are _our_ credits. We’ll walk. I’ll show you the way I use to get from the Academy to town when I need to.”  
“The Academy?” Ben frowned. “There’s nothing left but ruins and relics for tourists to shudder at.”  
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Armitage smiled. “Here. Watch out, it’s steep.”

Ben peered over the cliff edge, wondering if Armitage intended to push him over and rob his broken corpse, but although Armitage gave off waves of wariness Ben detected no ill intent. Armitage pointed and Ben saw a treacherously narrow, rocky path leading down and out of sight around the curve of the cliff. Armitage led the way and Ben scrambled after. Following was easy when there was only one route so Ben took his time, picking his way carefully over loose, storm-thrashed and wind-whipped stone, a slide almost sending him over the edge to whatever doom lay hidden by the roaring sea-spray below. He paused and closed his eyes against the vertigo of an unwise glance down, hands gripping tenacious shoots of sparse grasses that clung to the cliff face beside him. Fear clawed at his gut and stole his breath, and Ben wondered if he would simply remain in place until the next sea swell claimed him.  
“Ben.”  
A hand firm on his shoulder.  
“Ben!”  
A hand warm on his chin.  
He swallowed. The hand turned his face.  
“Ben, you’re okay. Look at me.”  
Ben opened his eyes. Blue, he thought. Not green like the sea. Blue like the sky. Armitage smiled.  
“Slip your bag off. It’s unbalancing you. I’ll carry it.”  
“But my—“  
“Ben, give me your bag or you will fall.”  
Ben slipped the bag from his shoulder and let it drop to the path. Armitage picked it up and slung it across his body, then patted Ben’s face again and slid his hand down Ben’s arm to his wrist.  
“Now take my hand.”  
Step by step, Armitage guided Ben down the exposed path and around the cliff face to a small ledge that nestled below an overhang. Ben pressed himself into the back, closed his eyes and forced his mind to calm. Armitage squeezed his hand. ”Almost there. There is one more section of path like that then it gets easier.”  
Ben nodded and shuffled forward because Luke always said fear was not allowed to win. Armitage murmured encouragement that stung.

The precarious path passed below the hulking ruin of Arkanis Academy and Armitage paused to show Ben where students had tunnelled a secret exit from the academy lower basement, now blocked off. Armitage laughed. “I used to come out here when I was a kid and my father was angry with me. I’d run along the path into town to see my mother.”  
“Your father. Was a. Teacher?” Ben asked in gasps as he inched along the ledge with his hands out for balance.  
“Ha! Something like that. That was your father, at the heap of junk?” Armitage laughed again at the memory of the ancient Corellian YT freighter he’d just seen arc across the sky.  
“Hey! That’s a damn good ship!” Ben’s voice was sharp, indignant rather than fearful, and Armitage laughed louder. “Did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs!”  
Armitage glanced back over his shoulder at Ben. “Mmhmm. He tell you that?”  
They spent the rest of the slow journey talking about ships. Ben compared the speed and agility of X-wings with various classes of TIE fighters and expressed his desire to fly them all, while Armitage reeled off facts about star destroyers and said he’d make a good commander since he already knew all the specs. In this cloud of numbers and lists they passed onto the easier section of path and soon rounded the cliffs and descended into Scaparus Port.

Armitage gave Ben his bag back and Ben automatically felt for the lump that indicated his most precious possession was still there. Armitage laughed and aimed a playful cuff at Ben’s head. “I should be offended that you think I might steal from my knight. Ben, you are one of us now. Stealing from you would be as pointlessly cruel as stealing from Mitaka.” Ben scowled at the comparison and Armitage noticed. He laughed. “You should be flattered. I hold my lieutenant in very high esteem. He’s quiet about his achievements, but they don’t go unnoticed or unrewarded. Now, it is my duty to obtain breakfast for all my troopers today. Want to learn how to feed twenty hungry street urchins? Sorry,” Armitage sniggered. “Twenty-one.”  
Ben smiled and shook his head. “I bet I can do better than you there. What did you plan?”  
“Oh, a few strategies. First, look for any boats just in and ask if they have anything too small to sell. Second, find a bakery or a grocer or a cafe with a young attendant and see if they’ll give us yesterday’s goods out of sympathy. After that I’m afraid it’s the dumpsters.”  
“I see,” Ben smiled. “What would you prefer? Good fish fresh off the boat or leftovers?”  
“Are you issuing a challenge, Ben Solo?” Armitage stuck out his hand and Ben clasped it firmly. “Very well. Show me what you can do at the harbour.”

With luck on his side, Ben felt invincible. There were a dozen or so small fishing boats offloading their catches at the fish market and Ben wandered through the stinking hubbub with Armitage watching from a short distance. Ben approached a boy maybe a couple of years younger than himself, tending a stall stacked with crates of shiny, fat grey fish.  
“Hi, I‘ve come to collect my mother’s order.” Ben spoke calm and low, waving his hand in front of the boy.  
“Huh? Order? We don’t—“  
“Of course you take orders. My mother paid for a dozen of those before your boat went out. You remember her.”  
“Uh, yes.”  
“She paid well so pick good ones. The best.”  
Armitage watched, halfway enthralled by Ben’s spell himself. He imagined a small, dark-haired lady with an off-world accent giving credits to the boy and reminding him, _I want good fish, now!_  
“A dozen of the biggest for your mother.”  
Ben waited as the boy chose, never taking his eyes away. The boy handed over a couple of heavy bags. Ben thanked him and reassured him that he’d done a good job and his boss was pleased, then walked away with Armitage a few paces behind him. Outside, they walked faster until Armitage caught up and steered Ben into a quiet side street, then shoved him roughly into a doorway, holding him with a press of his body and a hand on his throat. “I told you never to do that to me!”

Ben gaped at Armitage’s snarling face, all red cheeks and narrowed eyes and bared teeth. He felt himself respond in kind. He dropped his bags, lurched forward against Armitage with growling rage in his throat, and trapped him against the opposite wall of the recess, one hand on the centre of his chest.  
“It worked, didn’t it?” Ben glared, staring Armitage down. “I got us enough food for everyone twice over. I could do the same thing anywhere you choose, every day, or is my effort not good enough? Do your troopers only get to eat after a struggle? Do you all _want_ to be starving forever?”  
“Let go!” Armitage yelled. “Let me go NOW!” Ben stood back and dropped the single hand that had Armitage pinned and helpless. Armitage’s shoulders sagged and he only just caught himself from sliding down the wall. Armitage looked even paler than usual and his eyes, grey now they were in shadow, were wide open. Ben could have laughed but bit his lip to keep his mirth at bay. He smirked.  
“Don’t mistake me for a weakling like Mitaka, Armitage. I can direct the Force as I see fit. I want to help you, but if you threaten me I _will_ retaliate. You can’t bully me into being your… your _knight.”_  
Armitage responded by shoving Ben aside and marching away. Ben trotted after, carrying his bag and their breakfast from the fish market.

The troopers had not moved from the squat, sturdy building Ben had visited them in the day before. Armitage vanished down into the fuel cellar and waited for Ben to pass down his bags then squeeze through himself. They walked past a few still-sleeping forms to the backrooms where Unamo and Thanisson had stacked precious firewood gathered from broken shutters with the paint peeled off and kindling of crumpled flimsi. Armitage let the bags slap to the floor.  
“Roast half and dry the rest for later.”  
“Yessir.” Unamo saluted and took one of the bags while Thanisson arranged a pyramid of paper and splinters. Unamo raised her eyebrow at Ben, but Ben shook his head.  
“Your general doesn’t like it when I do magic.”  
Artmitage huffed and grabbed Ben’s arm, pulling him through to the other little room. He spoke barely above a murmur. “We need to agree some guidelines on how and when it is appropriate to use this _Force_ of yours. One: you will _never_ use it against me again.”  
“Agreed,” replied Ben, matching his tone to Armitage’s. “As long as you never threaten me physically.”  
Armitage took a deep breath. “Agreed. I… I apologise for my outburst earlier. I was angry because you endangered us with such a large-scale display.”  
“How? How was scamming a fish merchant of a few fish a danger?” Ben was genuinely perplexed.  
“Someone else might have seen or heard what you did. I was taken in too for a few seconds until I realised what you were doing.” Armitage frowned at Ben for a second. “Two: you will teach me how to resist your mind tricks. What happens when the lad tells his boss that the nice lady was happy with the expensive fish her son collected? Your description will be all over that fish market by lunchtime and all over town by closing time.”

Ben closed his eyes and shook his head. “I thought of that. I blurred the boy’s memory of me. I used to play a game with the other younglings - we’d try to make each other remember something differently and the winner was the one who was detected last. I usually won until Uncle Luke found out.”  
Armitage’s frown deepened. “Uncle Luke? New Jedi Order?” His hands formed tight fists and his eyes opened wide. “Kriff! You’re a fucking Skywalker! Just…” The fists opened and Ben was relieved to see that Armitage was grinning. “Just _wait_ until I tell Phasma all about _you!”_

There was no time for that revelation before breakfast. The meal was eaten in the same manner as the dinner Ben had provided a couple of nights before: furtively in corners. The only exceptions were Armitage, Phasma, Ben and Mitaka who sat together and talked quietly. Mitaka bolted his food then mainly interrupted to ask for clarification and took notes on scrap flimsi. Phasma talked over duties for the troopers under her command: who would pair with whom, where they would focus their efforts and what they could be expected to achieve. Effen was on sanitation duty for wandering away from his partner yet again and Phasma voiced a concern that he might get caught and give them all away. Armitage gave orders for the ‘officers’ detailing who was responsible for food, fuel, and finding possible shelter locations for when the threat of discovery meant that they could not remain here any longer. When the meeting broke up, Armitage followed Mitaka into the backroom. With an unexpected stab of envy, Ben watched as Armitage put his arms around Mitaka and held him for ten seconds, then Mitaka smiled and reached for a kiss. Mitaka caught Ben watching and closed his eyes, stroking Armitage’s hair and kissing him with a passion that made Ben grit his teeth and look away. Phasma laughed and shook her head.

Once the sanitation team comprising Effen and a couple of older troopers had cleared away the sucked-clean bones from breakfast and swilled out the latrine with a bucket of rainwater from the outside barrel, Phasma sent everyone out on their duties. In ones and twos, the troopers slipped out of the fuel store into remarkable sunshine and melted away. Armitage waited behind after sending Mitaka with Thanisson and Phasma with Unamo on a mission they spoke of only in careful whispers. He walked over to Ben and looped an arm around his shoulder.  
“Don’t mind Mitaka. He likes a little warmth in his life. It doesn’t mean much and he knows it, but it is my way of thanking him for his efforts.”  
“Why should I mind?” replied Ben, quick-fire words directed away from their target. “What you do with whoever you choose is your business and theirs.”  
Armitage smiled and squeezed Ben’s shoulders once before dropping his arm. “Of course it is. Come for a walk with me. No more cliffs, I promise.”

That turned out to be a lie, but this time their walk was up above the town to a grassy perch that looked down across the harbour. Few others were out exploring and Ben let the sun warm his face, relaxing in the welcome rays that made him forget for a while how miserable this planet could be. Armitage only broke his silence when they reached the top of the cliff and sat on a rock, the damp and chill driven off for now by the sun.  
“I used to come here with my mother.”  
“Oh?” Ben smiled.  
“Yes. She was a kitchen maid. A servant. Yours is a princess, right?”  
“Ugh shut up.” Ben scowled. “It’s not a big deal.”  
“You should be grateful!” Armitage looked out to where the sea merged into the sky. “A kitchen maid gets knocked up by the boss, nobody cares and everyone acts like it’s her fault for being stupid. A princess gets pregnant by a pirate and suddenly everyone’s cheering the birth of a new baby prince.”  
Ben was shocked by the venom in Armitage’s voice. He responded with a look of sympathy that he quickly stifled, then quiet words. “I guess. My mother is not that kind of royalty and my father probably still is a pirate, but I do see what you mean. Tell me about your mother.”  
Armitage shot Ben a glare. “Did you just…” He waved his hand.  
“No! I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” Ben held his hands out where Armitage could see them. “I just mean if you feel like talking I can listen.”

Armitage pushed Ben’s hands down. He took a deep breath. “I have never been allowed to talk about this.” Ben smiled and Armitage sighed again. “I was eight before my father acknowledged that I was his, officially, and took me to live with him. It was hard to deny it, I mean—“ Armitage pointed to his hair. “Not a common sight around here, and that’s a problem for me. I look far too much like Brendol Hux to deny it. Funny, it’s gone from Brendol refusing to acknowledge me when I desperately wanted to have a father, to me being unable to disown him when I need to.”  
Ben covered his mouth as he realised the connection between Armitage and the man he’d felt a creeping loathing for in the museum of horrors that once was Arkanis Academy. “You’re Armitage _Hux!_ Shit!”  
“Yeah,” Armitage snorted. “I could be dragged out and shot in the town square and people would celebrate the downfall of a Hux. It’s not just me. Phasma is a fully trained stormtrooper. Effen and Nines would have become stormtroopers if their training had been completed under my father’s command so no potential foster family will touch them. How unfair is that! They were… maybe… five? six? when the Academy fell. Well. I joined the Academy early when I was thirteen. Family privilege, everyone said. I became one of the _Commandant’s Cadets_ six months later, after I pushed a classmate off the cliff path one night when I’d had enough of the beatings. Mitaka too, he arranged for someone’s blaster to backfire in retaliation for the cadet trying earn their own badge by drowning him a week earlier.”  
Ben was silent. He covered Hux’s hand with his own and waited for a few seconds. Neither moved any further. “Are all of your troopers, well, _troopers?”_  
“No. A few just drifted in and joined us. They have valuable skills so we let them stay and don’t ask too many questions.”

They sat in silence for about another minute before Ben ventured another question.  
“What happened?”  
“When the Emperor fell, My father was pulled from our house and imprisoned. After a very short trial he was executed. I saw it replayed over and over on the holonet, the whole thing, from start to finish, took maybe forty minutes. I lived with my mother again after that, but she was forced from place to place as landlords and employers realised who she was. Who I was.” Armitage sighed. “We lived here and there, vacant premises mostly, working shit jobs for cash-in-hand and collecting the Troopers. She was kind. She wouldn’t turn anyone away. But she vanished. Just didn’t come back one night. Phasma thought she saw her sneak aboard a freighter and maybe she went off world so maybe she’s building a life somewhere and plans to come back when—“  
“When?”  
“Never mind.”  
Ben didn’t have to reach far with the Force to feel the waves of raw emotion that emanated from Armitage Hux. He did what his mother might have done if it was Ben Solo upset over one of life’s small unfairnesses. He pulled Armitage Hux into a tight hug and told him everything would be fine.


	5. Storms and calm seas

The building Ben had begun to think of as the Troopers’ home used to be a community storm shelter. It was set almost as far from the shore as the cliffs allowed, on the highest ground that could be reached with ease, yet it was far enough from the towering cliff face that rockfalls should not endanger its roof or the citizens it was built to protect. The square tower, now fallen, once housed a bell that would be rung when the worst storms approached, giving warning to the people of the old fishing village of Scaparus that they should pack quickly what essentials they owned and seek shelter within its sturdy walls. Of course Scaparus Port had outgrown such a crude form of defence against the hurricanes that threatened life on the fringes of the land masses of Arkanis. Now richer people took shelter in their own homes, designed with Arkanis weather patterns in mind. Poorer people huddled in communal areas still, but ones made more modern with plumbing and reliable power and soft bunks instead of a stinking latrine and damp fuel and cold flagstones. 

In truth, he was tiring of it already and it had only been eight nights. Ben would not confess this weakness aloud for fear of ridicule from those whose only choice was not what to eat or where to sleep, but whether either would be possible. At least he curled up at night with others: usually Armitage and sometimes Mitaka and Phasma too, huddling to share warmth. They slept on top of discarded packing materials lifted from shop backyards before the persistent damp rendered them useless, and rolled in blankets bought second hand with scarce credits. On the ninth morning, Ben listened as Phasma and Armitage gave orders for the day. Once the last trooper had slipped away to procure food or credits, or to keep watch and report back on activity around town, and Phasma had instructed a small group to meet for _training exercises_ , Ben let his curiosity out.  
“Arm?” Armitage paused in his task of clearing up after breakfast and raised an eyebrow at Ben. Ben frowned back. “Why do you do the menial stuff? Can’t you get Nines or Effen or Slip to sweep up for you?”  
Armitage laughed. “Got to look like I’m taking my turn. It’s fair, and it gets them all on my side when I have to hand out unpleasant jobs.”  
“Oh.” Ben warmed. He should have thought of that. “Why do you need pointless reports from all those places around town? Wouldn’t a couple of lookouts and a runner be enough to warn you if someone was coming?”  
Armitage smiled and held a finger to his lips, then made a show of looking around. He leaned close to Ben and murmured his answer. _“I don’t, but you never know.”_ He sighed. “Look, the biggest problem the youngest ones have is boredom. They want to feel as if they have an important job to do and they’re doing it well. So they’ll watch, report back to Mitaka or to Phasma and we’ll make a show of discussing their observations. And sometimes it does turn out to be important.” Armitage grinned. “For instance, based on a tip off, Mitaka and Unamo have been preparing our next temporary home and I _promise_ you’re going to like it. Our task is to pack up and make this place look uninviting.” Ben regarded the cold, damp space, unable to hide his expression. Armitage smirked. “Shouldn’t be a problem, huh?”

It did not take long, and afterwards Armitage said he had something important to show Ben, but only if he was ready to face the cliff path again. Ben swallowed, wide eyed, and nodded with some trepidation. They closed up their shelter as carefully as possible and pulled seathistle back across the low, narrow hatch that had been their door. Armitage led Ben down to the harbour, hoods up and heads down against both weather and prying eyes that might look twice at a flash of red. Ben had given his bag to one of the cadets days earlier and he felt for his lightsaber, a reassuring hard presence under his robe. Armitage used to laugh at him when he touched it and Phasma had made crude jokes, but it gave him comfort to know it was there. Mitaka had tried to take it one night, he swore just for a closer look, and Ben had almost throttled the lieutenant out of fear that he might be robbed of it. The shocked faces of the other Troopers and shouting from Armitage had brought him back into himself. Ben had released Mitaka, letting him drop, sucking in air, to the floor. He’d promised with a growl that anyone who touched his lightsaber would die and in demonstration he’d ignited the blade and set about carving into the wall between the main chamber and the back rooms, showering hot lava chips in sparks across the air to pepper the floor. He’d run out after that, run up the top cliff path until the air burned in his lungs and he had to slow, hauling himself up with laboured gasps and hands planted on his knees to help push himself onward. He’d stood on top of the cliff, looking down at the lights of the town, wondering in which of the more impressive buildings his mother still tried to solve the Troopers’ problems with words and promises. He’d let the wind whip his hair and the rain soak his robes until the cold threatened to take him, shivering muscles and chattering teeth and cooled temper, to a pointless death.

He’d returned to silence, stripped by the fireplace and hung his saturated clothing to dry. Armitage had taken his other hand, the one that was not clutched around the silvery hilt of his lightsaber, and led him to bed. In darkness only relieved by a deep red glow from the embers, Armitage had kissed him and told him in quiet words that would not carry to listening ears, _Ben, I need you, but if you threaten my Troopers again I will kill you._

Thinking back to that night, so recent that Ben felt a phantom damp chill on his robe, made him stop. He pulled Armitage’s sleeve. “Are you planning to push me over the cliff and call it an accident?”  
Armitage looked surprised, then shook his head. “No. I meant it when I said I need you and even Mitaka seems to have forgiven you, thanks to Phasma. She understands the importance of looking after one’s weapon.”  
“I… Um. I regret losing my temper.” Ben worried at his lower lip but Armitage turned his attention back to the cliff path before it narrowed to a rabbit trail.  
“It was stupid. But we’re stronger with you, so you stay.”  
The path didn’t seem so bad on the way up and Ben carefully avoided looking back down. Soon they reached the blocked off entrance that Armitage claimed he’d used to escape his father’s wrath. Armitage held his hand out to Ben and pulled him into the recess, patting the boulders that blocked the way in. “You can get through this, can’t you?” He pointed at Ben’s hip. “With that?” Ben scowled, about to protest that a lightsaber was a finely tuned precision weapon not an excavation tool, but he saw mischief in Armitage’s eye, so he nodded. Armitage smiled back. “Good. You get to it and I will keep watch.”

It took a while. The boulders were crumbly, sedimentary rocks which disintegrated in clouds of sand and dust, making Ben choke and sneeze and cough up red-grey phlegm. Armitage made a face the first time Ben spat, and Ben offered him the chance to use his precious lightsaber if he wanted to swap positions. Armitage refused and moved himself a little further up the path. Ben pulled his vest over his nose and mouth and wished for a faceplate or a helmet to filter out the burning hot particles that lodged everywhere and even made his eyes itch. By the time he had reduced the boulders to rubble that he could easily send over the edge with the Force to splash unheard into the waves, and dust that filled the air until the drizzle washed it clean, Ben was filthy. Armitage pushed him deeper into the now-open passage and took his hand.  
“Can’t have you looking like that once we get up top. I can find us something better. Can you block the passage again?”  
“How will we get out?” Ben asked, pointing to the way they had squeezed in. Armitage pointed straight up.  
“Through the front door, of course.”  
“Are you insane?” Ben hissed. “We’ll be seen!”  
“Yes! We will!” Armitage grinned. “But we won’t be _noticed_ if we do this right. This way.”

Armitage pulled Ben along the passage, only pausing for Ben to bring part of the roof down around the entrance. He pushed through so quickly that Ben wondered if Armitage could somehow see in the dark, or if he had some use of the Force that he was unaware of. The passage ended with a metal panel. Armitage heaved his shoulder against it and it moved, slipping and sticking grittily across the floor, and they stepped out into a corridor. Ben looked back: it wasn’t a door, it was a metal cabinet with black scorch marks on the grey paintwork. In the dim emergency lighting, Ben’s vision was monochrome.  
“I’m relieved there is still power down here,” admitted Armitage. “Makes things easier for us.”  
“What things. Arm, you need to tell me where we are and why we’re here.” Ben stood his ground and Armitage had to turn back a few steps for him. “I can’t be any use on a mission if I do not know what the mission is!”  
“Very well.” Armitage took Ben’s arm again. “We are in the lowest level of the Academy. The deepest basement. The basement where all the spare kit was stored. Hah.” Armitage shook his head. “Perhaps if Brendol Hux had made extra weaponry more easily available in a crisis I would be an officer on an imperial star destroyer and Arkanis would be part of the Empire still. We couldn’t defend ourselves with power cells for our blasters locked away. The Jedi who infiltrated our ranks before the local militia attacked decided it was better to _ensure this technology and methodology does not fall into the wrong hands_ and… Ugh. But they did not know about this level.”  
“I get it,” said Ben with some measure of sympathy. “I felt it from my mother after her tour. She wouldn’t tell me but the Force remembers. Those Jedi were my age, Armitage. They were cadets too. It doesn’t excuse what they did but—“  
“You are so fucking right that their inexperience doesn’t excuse a slaughter! Ben, I saw _you_ lose control. That’s what happened to the recruits only two floors up, but so much worse. Everyone who didn’t run, died. Some of those who did run died anyway. Nobody who went out the front into the riot made it past the gates. Phasma grabbed two conscripts and another few had the automatic response to follow her. Some ran out of that passageway so fast they ran straight over the cliff. What a horrific— Move, come on. We need to get changed and gather as much as we can carry in kitbags. Anything else will look suspicious.”  
Armitage marched away from Ben so quickly that Ben struggled to keep up.

Doors yielded to force until Armitage found what he wanted. He chose a uniform for himself and another for Ben. They left their bulky clothes behind and kitted up in Imperial Senior Cadet uniforms complete with wet weather outerwear and faceplates. In another store Armitage found kitbags and he handed one to Ben.  
“I’ll get as many blasters and power cells as I can fit in here. You get explosives and detonators.”  
Ben gaped. “What! Blasters? Arm, what are you planning?”  
Armitage leaned close to Ben, a frown pulling at his brow. “A surprise. A gesture of defiance. A massive raised finger to the shitty New Republic government on Arkanis. Something to make your mother’s politics heat up.”  
Ben imagined it. He pictured an explosion, maybe an official building after closing, perhaps a low boom, doubled when it came echoing from the cliffs, and flames lighting up the midnight sky or giving the townsfolk a pre-dawn wake-up call, and strengthening his mother’s position when she said the government had to acknowledge its part in the slaughter of innocent children stolen and conditioned to fight without fear or guilt. She would make them make amends. If anyone could, Leia would. Ben nodded.  
“Fine. Okay. Where are they?” 

 

Getting out of Arkanis Academy Museum was easier than getting in. They walked up one level then through a hatch into the service crawlspaces and up three more floors using the vents that once kept the lower levels at a constant temperature, emerging into a disused service room labelled _Museum Staff Only_ on the lowest floor open to the public. Armitage had been correct: they were seen by hundreds but nobody actually looked at them except one bored kid who demanded that Ben reveal the location of the restrooms. Once beyond the entrance kiosk, after a cursory nod to the similarly-uniformed cashier, Armitage led Ben to the transport stop. He spoke quietly as they approached the small line of waiting passengers, _”You can get us into town for free, right?”_  
Ben leaned close and replied in a low murmur, _”I thought you didn’t like it when I did that stuff.”_  
Armitage huffed and put his bag down for a rest. _”Just this once. This is fucking heavy.”_

The first transport was almost full. The waiting passengers crushed on but Ben shook his head and Armitage sat down on the plastoid bench inside the small shelter. Another came along after a minute and Ben waved it on too. Armitage frowned. “What are you… Oh!”  
The third transport was almost empty. Ben stepped inside and waved his hand at the two passengers as the transport trundled off, telling them that they were tired and transports were a good place to sleep. Armitage watched, grudgingly impressed, as both passengers dozed off quietly. Ben waited for the conductor to approach, a shiny, silver protocol droid, and deactivated it with a flick of his hand somewhere behind its head. He opened a panel on its back and tapped at a small screen that popped up, then closed it and reactivated the droid. It offered a standard greeting repeated in four languages then lurched away. Ben grinned.  
“The transport won’t stop until I tell the droid we want to get off. My mother has a droid just like that one, only more irritating. I used to deactivate him and reprogram him to swear, then order him to forget I’d done it.” Ben grinned. “At least Uncle Chewie thought it was funny.”

Eventually Armitage elbowed Ben and nodded at the droid. Ben ordered the droid to let them off, return to the depot and wipe the last forty minutes of memory. Armitage led and Ben followed, but not up to their refuge by the cliff: he led them through an area of large houses with gated driveways and gardens planted for privacy. They didn’t speak, although Ben itched to ask where they were going and he could feel Armitage’s excited anticipation of _something_ as they skirted the boundary wall of a large residence. The side gate was locked and Armitage buzzed to be let in. Phasma’s voice drawled a welcome and the gate clicked. He pushed it open and flashed a grin at Ben.  
“You’re probably not used to sleeping rough. Unamo and Mitaka have been working on securing this place for us. The owners are away for a few weeks on a tour of the Core Worlds. We’ve been watching it ever since Nines tipped us off about a conversation he heard in town.” Armitage laughed. “So there is no such thing as a pointless report.”

Once inside, Armitage gathered everyone in the spacious hallway for a briefing. He praised Nines for bringing them information about the absence of the family who lived here, acknowledged Mitaka and Unamo for their patience and persistence in dealing with the security system, and reminded everyone that since the house was supposed to be unoccupied, it must continue to look and sound unoccupied and vigilance from the watch teams was essential. He handed over to Phasma who took the Troopers through their emergency procedure in case of unexpected visitors, and instructed everyone that comings and goings must be restricted as much as possible to the hours of darkness. Mitaka was next with bunk allocations and domestic duty schedules written out on a shopping pad he had found in the kitchen. Tonight’s orders were: everyone use the sanisteams and choose new clothes from the cupboards in the bedrooms. Report back in one hour. After the Troopers had scurried off to get clean and dry and comfortable, Armitage turned to Ben.  
“Us too. We have earned a little luxury.”  
“You’re in the master bedroom, sir, straight up the middle staircase, just opposite the top of the stairs,” Mitaka peered at his list. “You, Phasma and me. It’s a big room. There are fewer bedrooms than we thought, only six sir. I can, um,” Mitaka flicked a glance from Armitage to Ben and back. “I can move to the sofa in the living room if that is not suitable. I had allocated it to our knight.”  
Armitage laughed and pulled Mitaka into a hug. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lieutenant. You have done a good job here. Well done.” Over Armitage’s shoulder, Mitaka smirked at Ben and Ben glared back. Armitage kissed Mitaka on both cheeks and gave him a stern look. “But I think we can accommodate Ben with us. I know Phasma won’t mind if the bed is big enough for four.”  
Mitaka’s smirk froze on his lips and Ben choked back a snigger.

Dinner was the best Ben had eaten since setting foot on Arkanis. By the time he and Armitage had used the sanisteam and found clean clothes that fit well enough, Thanisson and Unamo had searched the kitchen and the outhouse. They reported back that there was a large food freezer half-full of vacuum-packed meat and two sacks of dried beans, but those needed preparation and were noted down for future meals. Unamo dragged in what looked like the hindquarter of a dewback and wrestled it up onto the polished drainer to defrost while Thanisson poured water into a bowl of glossy brown beans. For tonight, they pulled out the contents of the storecupboards and conservator and laid everything on the shiny countertop. Armitage grinned and shooed everyone except Ben from the kitchen. Ben shook his head at the assortment of off-world foodstuffs that even he did not recognise. Armitage picked out a cheese that reeked like Han’s socks, a stack of yellow, brittle tiles and a few jars of red goop. He grinned at Ben’s confusion.  
“Well then. It seems the bastard son of the kitchen help is more useful than the bastard son of a princess. Hack off some of that frozen meat and chop it as fine as you can. Does the Force tell you what edible herbs look like?” Ben shook his head. “Sith! What do they teach you at Jedi school. Anything useful at all?” Ben smiled, reached out to the frozen mass already covered in a dusting of white frost condensed from the humid air, and Armitage shivered and laughed as it gently steamed and dripped into the sink.

It took two hours for dinner to be ready. Armitage had constructed layers using the brittle rectangles and the meat cooked in the red goop with some kind of swollen root that made Ben’s eyes water when he chopped and fried it. He’d found milk powder and flour and made some kind of blue sauce to put on top, grating all of the cheese over it. The oven held an assortment of square, rectangular and oval dishes, each bubbling and browning, and the proud cook and his assistant sat watching them through the glass door, stripped down to undershirts in the unaccustomed warmth. Ben sighed and rested his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees. Armitage misunderstood and opened the oven door for a better look.  
“Almost ready.”  
“Mmhmm.”  
“Are you about to tell me that Jedi don’t eat this kind of thing?”  
“No. Jedi don’t really have rules about that. But—”  
“But what?” Armitage frowned and sat closer to Ben.  
“But we do have rules about other stuff.”  
“Oh?” Armitage laughed. “Are you letting me down gently? Do you want the sofa after all? Mitaka will fully support that decision if—”  
“No you ass!” Ben laughed too. “No. It’s—“ He sighed again. “Arm, it’s the blasters. I mean, fair enough taking explosives to make some noise and do some damage to buildings as a protest, but blasters? They’re made for killing people. The New Jedi Order has some pretty strict rules about that.”  
“Then,” Armitage looped his arms around Ben’s shoulders and spoke quietly into his ear, making Ben shiver, “our Jedi Knight doesn’t have to use one.” Armitage kissed Ben’s cheek, let go and laughed. “Seriously, Ben, the blasters are for show. Phasma will issue them to Nines, Effen and Slip when we go out to set the explosives. If they hit anything it’ll be a sithdamn coincidence: those kids couldn’t hit a full-grown nerf from twenty paces.” Armitage turned off the oven and removed the bubbling dishes, setting them in a row that scorched the counter, then opened the kitchen door and the troopers fell in. Ben waited, ready to join the end of the line, but Armitage served two portions onto a large plate first and handed Ben two forks.  
“Take that to the dining room and wait for me. I have a feeling this place has more hidden resources.”

Waiting was a growling torment. The meal smelled so good that Ben thought time must have slowed as he waited impatiently for Armitage to join him. Troopers sat around on chairs at the table and reclined on the floor, eating voraciously and without conversation until every plate had been licked clean. Phasma’s voice sailed through from the kitchen _I found ice cream!_ and the dining room emptied, only Nines remained to pick up discarded plates, forks and spoons. Armitage entered just as the boy left, triumphantly brandishing a bottle. Ben laughed and looked around the dining room. Sure enough, high up in a glass-fronted display case, there were polished crystal glasses. Soon Ben sat so close beside Armitage that their knees touched, eating from the same plate, talking and sipping expensive wine from expensive stemware. Armitage raised his glass.  
“Is this what you’re used to, son-of-a-princess?”  
“Hardly,” replied Ben with a snort. “I am also the son of a smuggler. Most family meals were served in ration packs or dodgy cantinas. Four or five of the times I was forced to go to official dinners, the speeches lasted longer than the food. As for Jedi catering… well. You’d think flavour was a product of the dark side. Guess Uncle Luke thought seasoning was a distraction to the senses or something.”  
“I like the way you talk about that life.” Armitage gulped down the last of his glass of wine and poured another. Ben raised an eyebrow.  
“What do you mean? You want to hear me drone on about my family?”  
“No,” Armitage clarified with a smile, holding Ben’s gaze and throwing an arm around his shoulders to pull him conspiratorially close. “I like that you speak of it in past tense.”

Armitage declared that the next day was a rest day and there would be no duties other than a rotation of two troopers to watch the spaceport and two to watch the approach roads for the family transport just in case some emergency brought them home early. Phasma reminded everyone that they may not use the lights or make much noise but there was a holo-projector in the basement if anyone wanted to watch one of the householder’s collection of holovids. Half of the troopers followed her downstairs. Mitaka found a small room lined with shelves stacked with indexed datapads, and he and three others settled down to read. The duty troopers washed dishes and hauled filthy, discarded clothing into the laundry room beyond the kitchen, cursing because this family had no service droids. Ben queried this.  
“Everyone I met through my mom had droids for the boring stuff. Why not here?”  
Armitage shrugged. “My mother told me people are cheaper. But actually it’s a status thing. You can’t legally own another person, but you can still bind them to you if you know how. You know, _technically_ you’re an employee with a living wage but _actually_ your employer deducts rent and uniform costs and so much for meals and extra for your child even if— and then you’re left with a pittance and you can’t leave.”  
“That shouldn't be allowed! It should be stopped.” Ben felt anger at the injustice sear his bones. “If I ruled the galaxy—“  
“Yeah,” said Armitage, nudging Ben’s knee with his own and splashing more wine into his glass, “thing is, you don’t.”

When they had eaten, clutching a second bottle of wine, Armitage led Ben upstairs by the hand. Ben felt his head light and giggles bubbled under his breath. Armitage closed the door behind them and flopped backwards onto the bed, bottle cradled in his arms, eyes glinting green light reflected from the glow of the overhead security panel, alarms safely deactivated.  
“Oh this feels so good. Ben, come here.”  
Ben laughed and rolled onto the bed beside Armitage. It did feel good - soft and warm and dry. Armitage sat up again and opened the bottle, taking a swig. He handed it to Ben who sat up to accept it.  
“So, Ben, Knight of… of whatever you like.” Armitage arranged the pillows and sat back, legs wide, and patted the space between his knees. Ben’s cheeks warmed and he felt a hot tingle low in his core as he shuffled into place and Armitage pulled him back so that his head rested on Armitage’s shoulder. “So if we ruled the galaxy, what would our galaxy be like?”  
“Well.” Ben drank then handed the bottle back to Armitage. “There would be no need for politicians for a start.”  
“Oh?” Armitage’s hand snaked under Ben’s vest and stroked the skin on his chest. Ben giggled and shivered. “No elected officials? Is that wise?”  
“Ugh have you _met_ any politicians? I swear only one percent are decent people and the rest are power hungry lunatics determined to keep themselves in office at any cost.”  
“Wow!” The bottle changed hands again. “So you’d be, what, Emperor of the New Galactic Empire?”  
“No,” Ben turned his head to squint up at Armitage, watching his throat move as he swallowed a mouthful of wine. He took the bottle and sat upright to deposit it on the cabinet by the bed, then turned to face Armitage. “We would. You, me and Phasma in charge. You could do the talking. Phasma could train our army. I’d keep everyone in line through the Force.”

This went further than anything Armitage had ever daydreamed for himself. He reached forward and kissed Ben, cradling his head and wrapping his legs tight around Ben’s hips. Ben’s hand came up to stroke Armitage’s face and they collapsed back on the bed just as Phasma walked in.  
“Am I interrupting something?” Phasma huffed playfully and opened the drawer of the cabinet, emitting a soft _ah-hah!_ when she found what she hoped would be there.  
“No, actually we were just talking about something that concerns you,” said Armitage, running his heels down the back of Ben’s legs and hooking his feet around Ben’s ankles, while Ben sank his face into Armitage’s shoulder and groaned. “But that can wait. Are you planning on using all of those?”  
Phasma shrugged and tore off two condoms from the strip she had found in the bedside cabinet and dropped the rest onto Ben’s back, then picked up the half-full wine bottle, took a drink and laughed. “Living room is out of bounds.”

 

Perhaps it was the wine, thought Ben, or the afterglow. They had made love fast and desperate then lain together talking in murmurs, caressing and kissing, discussing more and more ridiculous plans about how to build an army from the remains of the fallen Empire’s youth, from displaced cadets and forgotten ordnance stored on planets that had only paper-thin allegiance to the New Republic. They’d offer a show of strength, displace the New Republic from Arkanis and take control as the first step in establishing their New Empire, free of the faults of the old one. They had made love again, better the second time, less urgent and with more understanding of each other’s desires, then fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs and impossible dreams.


	6. Thunder

The morning dawned grey and drizzly but that did not concern Ben or Armitage, who slept through until the invisible sun was high behind the clouds. Phasma and Mitaka had wandered in to use the sanisteam, not bothering to be quiet, eliciting only a groan from Ben and no response at all from Armitage who, despite his seniority, was far less used to alcohol than the privileged son of a politician. Mitaka made as if to wake Armitage but Phasma’s hand on his arm stopped him.  
“Let them sleep.” Phasma smiled at Ben, who was peering out through barely open eyelids. “Looks like they had a rough night. Arm’s a lightweight.”  
Mitaka huffed and turned to follow Phasma. Before long, Ben hid his head under the pillow to avoid listening to noises from the en-suite that were probably intended to be private.

Two hours later, after glasses of water and some painkillers Mitaka found in the cabinet in the en-suite, Ben and Armitage had recovered enough for lunch of stewed beans and hard bread that challenged their teeth. Armitage promised to coach Thanisson in culinary skills because the boy sure had trouble learning from the recipe scrapbook he’d found. Between them they prepared the huge joint of meat and wrestled it into the oven. Armitage put it on a low heat.  
“Best way,” he promised, trying to teach Thanisson patience by example. “It looks tough and six to eight hours will soften it. Also it means we can stagger mealtime for the troopers.” Armitage turned his head to catch Phasma’s eye. “Captain?”  
“Lookouts posted, general.” Phasma smiled at Mitaka and stretched. She looked as if she was about to speak but changed her mind. Mitaka blushed. Armitage sniggered and clutched at his chest.  
“Oh my Mitaka! Oh Doph, I am _wounded_ at how quickly you’ve moved on!”  
Mitaka muttered, _”Oh please shut up, general!”_ but there was a laugh under his embarrassment as he slipped from the room with only Phasma’s eyes following him.  
“You’re a fool, Arm,” snapped Phasma once Mitaka was safely out of earshot. “He’s adored you since he set foot in the Academy and he can’t help it. Don’t be such an arsehole about it. You’ll want him back once our Knight here goes back to mummy and daddy and there’s no one to keep you warm.”  
Ben’s spoon froze halfway to his face and he closed his mouth. He clattered the spoon down and pushed his bowl away. Not even Armitage’s arms reaching for him could keep Ben in the room. Before the door even banged shut, Phasma had finished the remnants of his meal.

The small library held a limited supply of datapads pre-loaded with popular novels, two armchairs and Dopheld Mitaka. Ben sat on the other chair and stuck his long legs out. Between them they filled the room.  
“I didn’t really mean to get between you and Armitage,” admitted Ben after an uncomfortable minute. “I guess it was a bit of a competition at first. I was envious. But I’m only here for another couple of weeks so I guess you’ll have him to yourself again soon.”  
Mitaka frowned over the book he was pretending to read. He sighed. “You should stay. I hate you but it makes sense.”  
“Stay?” Ben frowned back. “But don’t you want Armitage back?”  
Mitaka shrugged. “Things are better with you around. Easier. The general seems… more focussed. Like he was when we first escaped and we had big plans to take back the Academy for the Empire.” Mitaka smirked at Ben. “Anyway, what makes you think you can keep Armitage Hux interested in _your_ ugly mug when he has me and Phasma around?”

Irritated by Mitaka yet satisfied that his presence was probably not going to be the cause of a rift between the senior troopers, Ben returned to the kitchen. It was warm; vapour from the oven was just beginning to fog the windows and scent the air with the crushed herbs and oil that Armitage had made Thanisson massage into the meat before wrapping it in layers of foil. Armitage and Phasma sat across the table from one another, foreheads almost touching, deep in discussion. They jumped when Ben entered the room, then relaxed. Mitaka followed seconds later.  
“Am I missing anything important?” Mitaka asked, elbowing Ben aside. “Do I need to add myself and the knight to the general and the captain’s _to do_ lists?”  
Armitage blushed and Phasma laughed.  
“I don’t know where you found this attitude, Doph, but I like it.” Phasma kicked a chair out. “Sit here.”  
Not to be outdone, Armitage pushed a chair out for Ben and soon all four were deep in discussion.

Except Ben barely spoke. For once, he took Uncle Luke’s advice and _really listened_ not just to things said out loud, but to tone and pauses and to the words that were carefully avoided. Phasma noticed before the other two. She nudged Ben with her fist then rested her hand on his arm.  
“So what does our knight think of this plan? You helped break into the Academy, after all.”  
Ben sighed and sat back. He looked at three pairs of eyes. Phasma: humorous. Mitaka: nervous. Armitage: hopeful. He hated what he was going to say.  
“Seriously? I think it’s a kriffing stupid idea and we’ll all get caught and shot. It’s too big. Armitage, it’s one thing get drunk and to talk shit about reinstating the Empire, but what can we actually do? Realistically? What can we possibly accomplish with twenty cadets and one half-trained Jedi?”  
Armitage’s jaw clenched and his face went puce. Phasma’s grip tightened on Ben’s arm and Mitaka glared a warning that Ben ignored.  
“Look, I’ll go along with a plan to set off a few charges overnight and get you some publicity. I can even talk to my mom to see if she can hurry up the talks and get you all, I dunno, pardoned or legally recognised or whatever. But you can’t go storming into the senate house with blasters and expect to get out alive. It’s suicidal.”  
“What do you suggest?” said Armitage, spitting out the words. “We are achieving nothing by hiding away.”  
“You’re surviving,” replied Ben. “That’s not enough for you?”  
“NO!” Armitage yelled and Ben jumped. Phasma and Mitaka glanced at one another. “We are SICK of _surviving._ What have we even done? What have any of us _done_ to deserve the way we are forced to live? Ah, what do you care.” Armitage slumped, close to tears of frustration at Ben’s betrayal after seeming so enthusiastic the night before. “You can go back to your _real_ life whenever you like but this _is_ our life. I thought you could be one of us but I see you’re too weak for it.”  
“Too weak to live in peace?” asked Ben, voice trembling and on the point of breaking, feeling the Force slip around the small group, slithering without settling into any steady pattern. It unsettled Ben far more than the harsh words ever could and he dearly wished he had the guts to walk away and meditate until the Force looped calm around him.  
Armitage leaned forward and glared at Ben. “If THIS is peace then peace is a LIE!”

  
Ben’s eyes came up at that and he held Armitage’s gaze, his world contracting to that angry face inches from his own. He swallowed and took a deep breath.  
“Peace is a lie. There is only passion and through passion we gain strength. Through strength we gain power—”  
“And with power comes victory.” Armitage sat back and smiled.

  
It was a sign. It had to be. How could Armitage Hux, force-blind refugee from Arkanis Academy, know of the Sith code? Ben only knew of it from studying forbidden texts furtively when Luke was asleep. Those words spoken with passion, and the way the Force had coiled dark bands around them, were all the persuasion Ben needed. He reached both arms out and took Armitage’s hands in his. They locked eyes for as long as it took for Ben to summon the courage to put his decision into words.  
“Shit, Armitage, I’m in. I am not going back, this is my life now. But please let me in on your strategy: I want us all to live long enough to see us win this battle.”  
“Battle?” Armitage sneered. “We’re waging a war that never ended.”

 

A target was chosen. For the next five days Armitage and Phasma coordinated surveillance of those influential citizens regularly using the local senate house. It was really just a town hall with delusions of grandeur, where all political decisions affecting Scaparus Port were debated and voted on and where, for the sake of demonstrating to Senator Organa that Arkanis was in dire need of the financial assistance of reduced taxation, potentially planet-changing talks were being held. Senator Organa was not fooled; she knew the best of Arkanis was being hidden from her and the balance sheets offered up for her team’s scrutiny were deliberately pessimistic. But she engaged in their game. _Oh how unfortunate you have been since the fall of the Empire! Perhaps you do merit additional assistance in the financial affairs of Arkanis. I propose that in addition to the reduced scale of taxation you asked for, the New Republic lends expertise in governance and finance. What do you say to welcoming a team of off-world political advisers, tasked with bringing Arkanis’ outdated imperial model of government up to a standard more in keeping with the New Republic model of democratic representation and…_

This barely disguised offer of a New Republic takeover had, of course, gone down like a broken repulsorlift, but this allowed negotiations to proceed in earnest with each side knowing the extent of the other’s posturing, to-ing and fro-ing around a workable compromise that might give Arkanis the right kind of support without anyone feeling as if they had lost. Leia had even managed to slip in a clause concerning _the rights and welfare of people aged under twenty-five who were previously allied with the Empire,_ although her bemused opponent swore no such people existed. She hoped it would be enough to keep Ben from doing anything rash when he returned with Han to find little change. Over breakfast, Leia’s mind wandered to Ben and Han. She huffed out a snort at her immediate thought of _partners in crime!_ because that was too close to the truth at times. She smiled over her caf. At least nobody had brought up _wife of a pirate_ yet in an attempt to weaken her position. Perhaps they had heard already that her reaction was not likely to benefit them.

Leia found herself thinking of Ben more and more. She missed him as he had been years ago: missed his easy laugh and childish mischief. She wondered if sending him to train with Luke was too much, too young. The boy had barely had time to be a child before his Jedi training began so far from home. Sometimes, she would not admit to anyone but herself, she thought she caught glimpses of him right here in Scaparus Port but when she looked again it was always nothing. Someone else with his build. Something in the edge of her vision, blown by the wind and blurred by the drizzle. Always she felt watched but it was not unusual for a politician to be followed covertly by either side, or even both.

It was with some shock that Leia looked over her caf again, out of the window, to see her son sitting on the wall opposite the Ambassador’s residence, looking back in at her.

The figure she was certain was Ben had gone by the time Leia could leave the Ambassador’s residence for the senate house, but there was a message waiting for her at the small guard house by the gate. The security guard, a man in a particularly confused state of mind, had no memory of the messenger. It was an envelope of high quality, sealed and with her name written on the front in handwriting she recognised as Ben’s hurried scrawl. Leia thanked the guard and shoved the envelope deep inside her pocket. She thought as rationally as she could to stem the anger and fear that welled up from her core. Ben appeared well. She searched her mind for any sign that her son was in danger but the Force revealed nothing unusual. She closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. Her boy was a young adult now. At his age, she herself had been ready for an independent life. He had Jedi training that outmatched the social and diplomatic training she had received by the age of sixteen. He was impulsive, but kind, and definitely no fool. Leia felt as if Ben hadn’t seemed to _need_ her or Han for years. If her son had gone on some mission of his own devising and chosen to contact her, it was likely to be important. When her secure transport stopped at her destination, Leia excused herself and went to the only place she was pretty sure she was not under visual surveillance. Closing and locking the cubicle door, she took out the envelope and opened it. Inside, on matching flimsi, was a time and a place. Rolling her eyes at her own sense of the melodramatic, Leia shredded the flimsi and flushed it away. Today’s negotiations were going to be difficult.

 

The time was late and the place was the kind of bar that Han would have liked. Leia had shaken off her usual followers with ease: she had given her own security detail the night off and promised to go to bed, then slipped out in disguise while they watched holovids. Disguise for a senator meant “look ordinary” so Leia’s hair was pulled into a single, tight knot at her neck and she wore a cloak as grey as the afternoon sky. The servants’ entrance was locked to allow exit but not entrance - clearly the Ambassador did not care much who _left_ her official residence, having all IDs scrutinised only on entry. Leia paused on passing the front of the building, and smiled when she realised that the local security detail was only interested in following people who paraded out of the front door.

The bar was easily found. It was busy, and therefore a good choice for a conversation that needed the privacy supplied by a couple of hundred people who didn’t care about a mother having a drink with her son. Still, Leia thought it better to suppress her urge to yell out her worry and spoke quietly. She slipped into the seat opposite and leaned forward, concern etched in the lines of her frown.  
“Ben! I thought you were co-piloting for your dad. What happened? Are you okay? Is _he_ okay?”  
“Mom, he’s fine. I’m fine. I wanted to get to know the… group. You know who I mean.”  
“Yes.” Leia did. She had glimpsed watchful faces from time to time, youngsters lurking in doorways or strolling out of side streets behind her. After a while she’d got to recognise a couple. “Where have you been living?”  
“Oh here and there,” Ben smiled. “How are the negotiations going?”  
Leia sighed. “I have to be honest with you, Ben. I have succeeded in having a clause added that grants legal protection to your new friends but we are several days from a watertight agreement. Be patient.”  
“Patient? Mom, being patient means waiting for my _friends_ to have accidents or get discovered or… or take action themselves.” Ben watched Leia’s face flash anger.  
“These things take time! If we rush through legislation it could make things worse for everyone.” Leia calmed herself again and Ben felt the force around her smooth a little. She was angry, dark knots contrasted with the light, but she was controlled.  
“You know,” Ben closed his eyes for two seconds and opened them to smile at his mother. “You should let them see your anger. Let them feel it. It’s powerful.’

Leia sat back, shock evident on her face and Ben felt the eddies in the Force pick up around them both. Leia swallowed and shook her head.  
“Oh, Ben. No. Think of what Luke would say to you. Acting on anger leads to the dark side. Perhaps you should meditate on that.” Leia took in Ben’s expression: mouth a tight line, eyebrows pulled low. She leaned close again. “Come back with me. Come to the Ambassador’s residence. You can have a quiet room there and meditate, do your Force exercises, find a better way forward. In the light.”  
“So you think the best way to help my friends is to abandon them and move into a house full of privileged rich people?” Ben shook his head. “Is that Luke’s New Jedi way? I don’t think so. I don’t remember any lessons on waiting for powerless people to be killed. That’s what this is about. All the stalling, all the negotiations, all the haggling over this point or that. It’s to delay you until they’re caught and you’re falling for it.”  
“Don’t be so dramatic, Ben” Leia snapped at her son. “You lie to Han and me about your whereabouts, take up with a group of ex-imperial officer cadets and trainee stormtroopers and dare to lecture me about right and wrong? Get some life experience and show some respect.”  
Leia knew long before Ben shoved his seat back and stormed out that it was the wrong thing to say. For all she cursed herself and her hasty words to Ben, on her walk back to the Ambassador’s residence she had a nagging feeling that he might be right.

Leia had a nagging feeling about something else too. She turned quickly and ducked into a side street, pelting up the cobblestones as fast as she could and diving into a doorway. Behind her came shouts, an exchange of blaster shots and a scream. A few seconds of silence followed, only the constant patter of rain that she had learned to tune out to disturb the air, then came the sound of something clattering onto the ground and light feet running. Leia peered out then stepped into the street for a better look. Two figures lay prone on the shining cobbles and another tried to hurtle past her, but the force of their half-collision knocked them both over.  
“I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I couldn’t!” The boy’s voice came fast and panicked. “I won’t kill. I won’t. I said I wouldn’t and they laughed but I didn’t!”  
“Hey, hey, slow down. You’re okay. I believe you.” And Leia did believe the boy whose tears flowed as soon as she said it. Something about him glowed, she thought, something inside. She scrambled to her feet and held out her hand. “Come on, we’d better not be caught here.”

Leia pulled the boy to his feet although he was at least as tall as she was. They walked away up the side street without looking back and took a detour to the busier street behind the harbour. Leia looked at the boy’s terrified face and tried on a warm smile.  
“I know you’re afraid. I’ve seen your face before. You’re one of the _Troopers_ my son has told me about, aren’t you?”  
The boy nodded and Leia sighed.  
“You’re safe with me, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you. Come with me and tell me what happened.”  
The boy shook his head and wiped his face on his sleeves. Leia noticed that there was blood on his face, but that he was not injured. She hid the concern behind another smile.  
“You don’t feel safe, do you?”  
Another shake.  
“Okay. I think I can find you somewhere better.”

Leia used her comm, the briefest of messages to the New Republic pilot who waited to take her away from Arkanis as soon as her job was done, and waited in the street with the boy. Soon a young man arrived on a speeder and jumped off to exchange a few words with Leia. The man approached the boy.  
“Hey kid, the senator here says you need a safe place to stay tonight. How about my spaceship? It ain’t grand but it’s warm and there’s plenty food and nobody will look for you there. Whadda ya say?”  
The boy kept his head down but nodded. Leia felt relief wash warm over her. There was just something about her pilot that _made_ you want to trust him.  
“So I’m Poe, Poe Dameron.” Poe stuck out his hand and the boy looked up and took it. “What’s your name?”  
“Effenn two one eight seven.”  
“Effenn what?” Poe laughed. “That’s not a name! I’m not calling you that, buddy. Huh. Effenn… how ‘bout _Finn?”_

Finn smiled and nodded. Leia watched the speeder move away with Finn clinging tight behind Poe then walked back through the Ambassador’s front gate and up to her rooms to send Han an urgent comm and wait for Poe’s report. It came an hour later.

_Ma’am, you’re gonna want to hear this boy for yourself. Do you have time for a meeting tomorrow?_

Leia read the attached file with horror. As she reached for her comm to reply to Poe, her door banged and opened and two armed guards stepped in, weapons trained on her.  
“Ma’am Senator, you have been seen communicating with a member of a known terrorist organisation. You are under house arrest until further notice. Please relinquish all personal communication devices and any weapons you might have in your possession.”  
Leia pressed the security button on her datapad as she held it out with her comm, and all files scrambled and vanished.  
“What are you talking about? I’m a politician. I don’t carry weapons and I don’t deal with terrorists.”  
A third uniformed officer stepped into the room to accept Leia’s comm and her datapad. She offered Leia another datapad set to display a set of grainy pictures. Two bodies in a deserted street. Herself and Finn, leaning on the wall outside a shop. Finn taking Poe’s hand. Herself watching as Poe took Finn to safety.  
“We have your pilot and the boy in custody. He’s wanted for questioning about an attack on our security personnel this evening. One of our guards was murdered. You were seen with the suspect.”  
“He’s a child!”  
The security guard shook her head and sighed.  
“No, ma’am, you have been fooled. That boy is a terrorist.”


	7. Lightning

Standing tall, Phasma stared at Nines who sat with his head down. Armitage frowned at the boy across the kitchen table. He looked like the frightened child he truly was. Phasma cleared her voice.  
“Repeat what you have just told me.”  
Nines glanced up at Armitage, who nodded. “Report, trooper!”  
“Yessir. I was on patrol with Effen and Slip following that lady you said we had to watch when a guard caught us and we ran but Slip _slipped_ and shot at the guard when he caught up and hit him and the guard shot back and Slip’s dead sir and I shot the guard and Effen ran off with that lady and...”  
“And you came straight back here?” There was a warning undertone to Armitage’s voice.  
“Nossir!” Nines sat upright. “I ran all over first and lost the other guard.”  
Armitage smiled. “You are an excellent trooper, Nines. I am sorry about Slip but we don’t have time to mourn. Effen is a traitor and we will never speak of him again. You will pair up with Thanisson tomorrow. Get some rest, trooper.”  
Nines did not have to be told twice. He ran from the room. Armitage and Phasma exchanged a fearful look and a single nod. Armitage looked over at Mitaka, observing from the corner.  
“You are now in charge of weaponry. Arm the most competent troopers and await orders from Phasma.”

Ben was upstairs. Armitage found him lying on their bed with one of the datapads that Unamo had managed to slice. He was frowning.  
“There’s nothing on the local news channel about this. You’d think the shooting of a guard would merit a report but there’s not a word.”  
Armitage completely ignored what Ben had said and jabbed a finger at him. “It’s your fault that Effen defected. I told you not to involve your mother any more and you went ahead and talked with her anyway.” Ben sat up and put the datapad aside. Armitage only got louder. “I should have known not to trust you! You say you’re one of us but you disobey direct orders and just do whatever the kriff you want REGARDLESS OF ANY CONSEQUENCES!”  
Armitage was yelling by the end of that speech. Ben stood up and took a step towards him, one arm up, palm out either in supplication or defence.  
“You can go back to your old life ANY TIME YOU LIKE and not look back but WE CAN’T! WHEN WILL YOU GET IT INTO YOUR THICK SKULL THAT I AM IN CHARGE?”  
Armitage’s face twisted with emotion that Ben could feel without even trying. Force whirled around him, thick and tangled, almost sparking with power.  
“Effen’s fate is on YOU, Ben Solo! He’ll have been questioned and we’ll be found. There are probably guards surrounding this house already and we have no way out. You got us all caught and you’re the ONLY ONE who can walk away from it. Well.” Armitage’s mind seemed to settle on an idea although his fear did not subside, and Ben watched entranced as the Force coiled dark and knotted and smoothed again. Armitage clenched his fists tight. “We will go out fighting. And if you hold back and betray us in battle, my last action will be to put a blaster bolt in your head myself. I promise you that.”

Ben felt so saturated with the Force that he might burst trying to contain it. He envisioned gathering it in heavy loops and pushing it outwards in all directions, feeling where it snagged around Armitage and where it flowed clean and free. He sighed and smiled.  
“There’s no one. Armitage, Effen has not told anyone where we are, or if he has then he’s only told my mother and she _is_ on our side in her own way. I can feel it, she’s worried and she feels… trapped, maybe? But that’s just what she’s like. There’s nobody else out there. Nobody is sneaking up to capture us. I’d know. I’d feel it. I can feel _everything_ tonight. Armitage I feel so—”  
“I don’t believe you.” Armitage snapped sharp but his expression was pleadingly hopeful.  
“Please yourself.” Ben sat down again and smiled, light-headed with so much power to play with. “But it’s true. Hah. Maybe you should reconsider how you deploy your troopers. Sending those kids out with blasters was st… not a good idea.”  
“I didn’t,” admitted Armitage, sighing and dropping onto the bed beside Ben after a few seconds. “They did that for themselves. Taking the blasters, I mean, I did tell them to follow your mother and report on what she gets up to. I’ve put Mitaka in charge of our weapons from now on.”

Ben picked up the undertone of regret in Armitage’s cocktail of emotions, put his arms around him and leaned their heads together.  
“So it’s not your fault and not my fault. Just a shitty thing that happened.”  
“But it is my fault,” Armitage replied. “It’s my job to keep them all alive and help make things better for us all.”  
“I know,” said Ben. “But you can’t let it paralyse you. Use it, use your fear and your hate to make a difference. Can’t you feel the power of the Force around you right now? It’s… it’s… Raw. It’s intoxicating.” Ben took a deep breath, eyes closed. “Aah. It makes me want to—”  
“Kriff!” Armitage shot up and made for the door. “I better stand down the alarm before anyone else gets shot tonight.”  
Behind him Ben lay back on the bed with his hands over his face, groaning.

Armitage returned several minutes later looking smug. “Blasters and other weaponry all counted and Mitaka has drawn up an inventory. He should be an Imperial officer. Nines is with the other youngsters doing drills with Thanisson. Phasma is going out to see if she can find out anything useful in the tapcafés. Patrol two reports no unusual activity in the streets around this house. I sent Mitaka with Unamo and a couple of the older troopers to keep reliable eyes on the Ambassador’s residence in case your mother does anything stupid. Unamo sliced into their comm system and set up an alert. Thanisson’s monitoring the feed.”  
Ben rolled onto his side and smiled. “So it’s just you and me tonight?”  
Armitage smiled back as he rolled onto the bed and lay beside Ben. “Don’t ever bring this up again, but half of my, um…”  
“Tantrum?” suggested Ben, receiving a pillow in the face for his cheek. When Armitage threw it away, Ben saw that his expression was sombre.  
“Concern. Half of my _concern_ was that I might have misjudged you. Ben, I want to be able to trust you and not have to factor in ‘what if the idiot Jedi does something I don’t know about’ to every plan. I want…” Armitage bit his lip and looked away. “I need to know that you’re going to stay loyal to us, that you’re mine.”

Ben waited for Armitage to look at him again then leaned across and kissed him, running his hand through his hair and pulling back only just far enough to focus on those green-grey eyes.  
“How can you doubt that I’m yours? I’d do anything for you.”  
“Liar.” Armitage smiled. “But I will pretend to believe it for tonight.” He shuffled closer so that their bodies lay flush, slipped his hand under Ben’s clothing and caressed his warm skin. “So, earlier you were about to tell me what the _force_ makes you want to do. Anything I should know about?”  
Ben laughed, quiet and low.  
“Oh I think so.”

 

Meanwhile Finn and Poe sat in a small, bare holding cell and frowned at one another. Poe drew breath to speak, to reassure the boy that Leia would get them out or something. Anything. But Finn cocked his head, cupped a cuffed hand to his ear and motioned to Poe for silence. Surprised, Poe listened too. Footsteps receded and the sound of a door hissing shut came muffled through their cell. Finn was on his feet immediately, picking at the hem of his shirt.  
“Help me.” He shuffled closer to Poe and the pilot held the fabric still while Finn pulled at it until it loosened and a deactivated electronic lockpick shook out into his hand.  
Finn gave a satisfied nod. “Other side now.”  
Finn turned and they repeated the destruction of the deep hem of Finn’s overshirt. He clipped the parts together and activated the small electronic device, grinning at Poe.  
“These guys are amateurs! The General makes us carry these in case we’re caught and they didn’t bother to search me because I cried. I’m getting us out of here. You’re a pilot, right? We can’t take your ship, it'll be hot, so we’ll have to steal one. What else can you fly?”  
Poe watched in amazement as the boy who had trembled and wept like a terrified child in front of the guards unlocked his own cuffs then Poe’s, then set about dismantling the door security system. He laughed.  
“Hah. You're full of surprises, Finn! I can fly _anything._ But we gotta get the senator first.”

If there was one thing Senator Leia Organa did not need, it was a knight in shining armour to ride to her rescue. She cursed her lack of foresight, or perhaps her misplaced trust or whatever had prevented her from having a backup secured comm-link hidden somewhere. At least she had managed to comm Han and he’d pick up the message when he was able. In the meantime she had to get out. Leia suspected house arrest was only the first step: she would probably be presented with more damning evidence of collaboration with the “terrorists” and used as a pawn in a political bargaining game. Trouble was, she doubted that Centrists like the Ambassador would bother bartering for her at all. Her demise, imprisonment on fabricated terrorism charges, would be a sure sign of corruption in the New Republic’s Populist faction and the Centrists would get what they wanted: a return to Imperial policies.

She killed the lights and looked out the window. Her room was at the side of the building, up two flights from the official meeting rooms below, but not so high as to make escape more than a little inconvenient. She tested the sash window. It opened with a squeak and a rattle. Leia rummaged in her toiletry bag and sacrificed the expensive, rose scented wash that had been a gift from Ben to the job of lubricating the window grooves and tried again. This time the lower portion of the window opened more smoothly and without much complaint. She closed it again as quietly as she could, put the lights back on and listened at her door. A creak told her that at least one guard was posted outside so she banged on the inside until it opened a crack.  
“What?”  
“Can I have some tea? I may as well go to bed early.”  
“No. You’re a prisoner not an honoured guest.”  
“Well goodnight then.”

The door slammed and locked before Leia’s last syllables slipped through. She'd seen one guard and a dining chair facing her door. She looked around the room. The fall to the ground was too far simply to dangle and drop, a landing like that risked a broken ankle or twisted knee or bruising bad enough to prevent her from running. She eyed up the bedding and smiled, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. It really was too much like one of the silly adventure tales Ben liked as a child, surely. But it made sense. Leia stripped the bedding from her large bed and knotted the sheets and blankets securely, corner to diagonal corner. The result was a heavy length of fabric almost eight metres long. She’d lose two metres in securing it and hauling it over the window ledge but that left enough that she could make the drop to the ground less daunting. As an afterthought, she added the two generously sized bath sheets from the ’fresher to her makeshift rope.

She would have to be fast. Leia shut off the lights again and looked out. There were two guards, a matching pair, patrolling the grounds with a guard animal that strained at a leash. The perimeter wall was high but designed for keeping intruders out rather than keeping senators in. Shrubs and small, gnarled trees, probably the tallest in this harsh coastal environment, grew in its shelter and pointed their branches away from the prevailing salt-laden wind. Leia waited, silent. The guards passed around the corner of the building. She counted five, dropped her rope and walked herself down hand-over-hand, feet splayed on the wall, with only a few knots to serve as grips. She fell to the ground and landed safely, then launched herself at the wall, using a sturdy evergreen to help her reach the top. Once there, flat on her belly, she looked down and around. The street was quiet, not deserted, but she could not afford to wait. As if it was the most natural thing in the galaxy, Leia sat up and dropped off the perimeter wall of the New Republic Ambassador’s Residence, landed with a grunt, dusted herself down and walked away. By the time the alarm was sounded on the guards’ next pass under her window, Leia was a street away, shuffling along with the locals, keeping her head down against the windblown rain and wondering where to go. She could only think of one place. A tapcafé where nobody cared who she was.

Inside was warm and a real fire burned at the far end of the bar. Her credit chip stayed in her pocket and she pushed coins across the counter as she ordered: a hot drink and some fried fish like the locals preferred. As she sat and chewed, a giggle rose and she stifled it. The floor-to-ceiling curtains on the window she had escaped out of must have been three metres each and there were six of them in the room.  
“Share a meal and a joke?”  
Leia flinched and settled, pushing the plate towards Poe and Finn who slid into the bench seat opposite. Finn tucked in without a word.  
“Am I glad to see you!” Leia grinned. “Hoped you’d think of coming here when you got out. I think I may have outstayed my welcome on this planet. How soon can we leave?”  
Poe shrugged. “Spaceport’s pretty hot right now but there’s another north of here if we can get a transport. Turns out our little criminal here’s handy with locks.”  
Leia excused herself and went back to the bar with another few credits to get the boy more food. Finn looked from Poe to Leia and back again, frowned and looked away.  
“What is it, li’l buddy?” Poe punched Finn’s shoulder lightly. Finn chewed and swallowed the last of the fish and reached for Leia’s tea before he asked the question that had been burning in his brain since they first met.  
“Is she your mum?”

In another nook of the tapcafé, a tall blonde woman giggled into the third drink she’d accepted from a seadog with imperialist leanings.  
“Oh, go on, laugh, but it’s true!” He slurred and giggled too. Phasma reached across the table and stroked his scarred, stubbled cheek. He took another drink, failing to notice that his companion merely let the drink wet her lip then spilled some onto the floor.  
“No-o-o, can’t be. Where’d’ya get nonsense like that?” Phasma made up for her striking looks and height by shouching and speaking like a seadog herself. “Off-a the mermaids?”  
“Ah-hah!” The man grinned and raised his glass in a silent toast which Phasma joined, sloshing more of her booze onto the table. “They’re _real!_ Look-a, you might be one f’rall I know, come on land to fu... A-ha-ha. NO!” He toasted the entire room. The entire room ignored the drunk in the corner. “I heard it… _over_ heard it…” He touched his nose and winked then leaned close and lowered his voice. “From a. Poh. Lit. Ish. Un. From the _Uhm. Bass. Uh. Durr._ She were whispering down dockside when she come to tell us all what a GREAT job we’re doing but there’s still no money. As. USUAL!”  
“No-o-o-o, getawaywi’ya” Phasma looked away and grinned, stretching out her arms. “You’re telling me you got a minnota _this big!”_  
“Swear down!” The man downed his drink, banged his glass on the table and grabbed a handful of the crispy, deep-fried minnota that were the staple snack in the tapcafés on Scaparus Port. Phasma poured half of the rest of her drink into his glass and he seemed happy with that. He spoke, mumbling through crumbs, “Swear down, lass. There’s one as got away off a planet called Jakku.”  
He leaned back and closed his eyes. Signalling the barboy over, Phasma ordered another drink for the salt and said, “He got credits left?” The boy nodded so Phasma ordered a large portion of fried minnota, wrapped to go. Hot fish for cold troopers out on their surveillance duties.

It was late when Phasma returned to the house, slipping through the security gate and in the back door to the kitchen. She finished her watch with a patrol of the house: counting troopers in their beds, adding four for the ones who watched the spaceport and the street. In the living room, Armitage was in quiet conversation with Mitaka, sitting close together on the sofa.  
“Where’s the loose cannon?” she asked, draping her damp robe over the back of a deep armchair then sinking into it.  
“Asleep upstairs,” replied Mitaka. “The general here tired him out.”  
Phasma snorted and Armitage scowled, then smiled and shook his head.  
“Just because he doesn’t have your stamina doesn’t mean I am not quite satisfied with his performance. In fact—“  
“Enough!” Phasma covered her ears. “Is this a strategy meeting or just chitchat? If you boys want to stay up gossiping all night then I will go sleep with Ben, find out if shagging a force-user is all it’s cracked up to be, and you can have my report in the morning.”  
Mitaka’s face reddened and Armitage laughed. He ruffled Mitaka’s hair and pulled him half into his lap, kissing his cheek.  
“What do you think, Doph? Do we let Phasma seduce my knight while we snuggle up here and I’ll tell you what force-fucking feels like?”  
“I think,” said Mitaka, pushing Armitage’s face away with a flat hand and rolling his eyes, “although listening to you tell me about your new boyfriend’s cock while my girlfriend fucks him upstairs is _such_ an attractive option, we should hear Phasma’s report then all get some sleep.”  
“Good,” Phasma nodded and yawned. “I’m exhausted. I heard that there is an imperial star destroyer in a holding orbit around an inner-rim planet called Jakku. So if we ever get off this rain-soaked shithole, we might have somewhere to go.”  
Armitage sat bolt upright, jostling Mitaka aside, and leaned across to Phasma.  
“That changes everything. If it’s true.” He turned to Mitaka. “Organise a command briefing at breakfast. Us three, Ben, Unamo.”  
Armitage sat back and closed his eyes. He sighed. “It’s late. I need to think and I need to be undisturbed. You two bunk with Ben tonight and I’ll take the sofa.”

Somewhere in the mid-rim, the Millennium Falcon dropped out of hyperspace and set a more sedate course into orbit above Takodana, and Han checked his comm-link for delivery instructions. He frowned and turned to his co-pilot.  
“Chewie, I need you to handle the rest of this job for me. Can you keep Maz entertained until I get back? I gotta go to Arkanis again. Ben’s up to something and I got a bad feeling about it.”  
Chewbacca groaned out an offer to accompany Han back to Arkanis, but Han just laughed.  
“No, no. You stay here and have a good time for a couple of days. You earned it. I can handle this.”

 

Five faces looked at each other around the kitchen table. Armitage sat at the head of the table with Phasma and Ben on either side while Mitaka and Unamo faced each other, each taking notes. Armitage cleared his throat.  
“Officer Unamo, your prime task is to ascertain whether or not there really is an Imperial Star Destroyer in orbit above Jakku and, if it exists, what is its status.”  
Unamo gave a curt nod and tapped at her sliced datapad. Armitage nodded back and she left the room quietly.  
“Lieutenant Mitaka, you are to take one last raiding party to the Academy vaults. Yourself and two experienced troopers. Gather whatever you can carry but prioritise comm-links, hand blasters and spare power packs. If you can get yourself and the troopers out in full body armour, do it. The real stuff, not the flimsy crap they sell in the museum store.”  
Mitaka nodded to Armitage then looked at Phasma and named two troopers. Phasma agreed.  
“Captain Phasma, when Mitaka returns, train all personnel in use of hand blasters. Split the troopers into assault teams. We will need three: one for the senate house, one for the spaceport and one on standby.”  
“Sir, we don’t have enough troopers for three full teams.” Phasma frowned. “I can give you two good teams, general.”  
Armitage nodded. “Noted, captain. I trust your judgment on that. Ben?”  
Ben raised his head. Armitage held his gaze while he spoke.  
“We’re preparing to bring the attack forward. If this rumoured star destroyer is real, we have no reason to remain on Arkanis. If there is an Empire left to join, we intend join it. Are you still with us?”  
Ben nodded.  
“Good. You will play no part in the attacks in town. I need my knight with the spaceport assault team. You are going to steal a spaceship for us and kidnap a pilot. Can you do that?”  
“I can do better than that.” Ben smiled. “I bet I can steal a spaceship without the help of an assault team, and I’m a pretty good pilot.”

Armitage frowned and tapped his fingers, drumming out a rhythm on the tabletop.  
“Ben, this is not a one-man operation. If I say you take a team, you take a team.”  
Ben felt anger rise and let it show, feeding off the energy it gave him. He leaned closer to Armitage and lowered his voice, hands flat on the table, making the wood vibrate and creak as the fibres tried to slip past one another.  
“You have no idea. You’ve not seen even a tenth of what I can do, _general,_ so if you want my help to get off Arkanis then I suggest you accept it. All of it.”  
Mitaka yelped and slid his chair back as the table surface warped and smoked from internal friction. Phasma stood up and pulled the squat, black carbon dioxide cylinder from the wall by the oven and held it up in front of Ben.  
“My hesitation is only because I can’t decide whether to use this to put the fire out or to put you out.”

Ben smiled and sat back. He looked up into the glare that hid Phasma’s fear.  
“No need.” He lifted his hands. Black scorch marks showed where his palms had contacted the wood. Ben breathed deeply and laughed. “This is… Aah! No wonder Master Luke forbade this. This feeling, this power is _everything._ Captain? General?” Ben’s eyes found Mitaka’s and he grinned. “Lieutenant?”  
All three stared at Ben.  
“Leave the spaceport to me.”

Unamo had an answer by the early hours. As soon as Armitage woke and heard her calm report of the rumour’s origins and the reliability of her sources, he roused his command team to give orders. Ben was to go to the spaceport, find a spaceship big enough to carry twenty and secure it then wait for further orders. Phasma’s primary team would distribute their explosives within the senate house gradually over the course of the morning. It was a public space and, although guarded, it remained ridiculously vulnerable. The secondary team would remain on stand-by. Unamo would continue to monitor the holonet and Thanisson, with the youngest two troopers, was to pack any of their gear that remained and take it to the spaceport, looking as much as possible like three siblings waiting for their parents with holiday luggage. Mitaka looked nervously at Armitage. Armitage grinned and ordered him to assist Ben, cutting off all protests with a gesture. By late afternoon, every officer and trooper was to be aboard whichever ship Ben acquired for them, and be ready to fly.

Ben was as happy about the arrangement as Mitaka was.  
“I don’t need you,” he muttered at Mitaka next morning as soon as they had left the house on their walk to the spaceport. “I don’t want to have to babysit you so you’d better keep up.”  
Mitaka choked back his anger and tightened his mouth. After a minute he leaned in to Ben and muttered back, “He sent me because he doesn’t trust you. I’m the one who’s here to get the job done when you try to betray us. I have a blaster. I know he threatened to kill you himself but I am quite prepared to deputise for him.”  
Ben stifled a laugh and pulled a fake scowl.  
“Oh you heard all his bluster? You know, you should pull that pedestal out from under his feet. He’s just as terrified as the rest of you. He stinks of it.” Ben smiled. “Actually he wants me to keep you safely away from the action because you’re so useless in combat.”  
“He said that, did he?” Mitaka raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Ben looked at him sideways.  
“Not exactly,” admitted Ben with a sigh. “He wants me to get you to safety. You don’t need to be jealous of me at all. I know you hate that he’s with me but… Whatever.”  
“Huh.” Mitaka was silent for a few minutes then he slowed down and stopped. Ben turned and Mitaka frowned at him.  
“He still likes me?”  
Ben shrugged. “You’re Phasma’s but you still like him.”  
“Huh.” Mitaka caught up and they walked in silence again until the spaceport was in view then he plucked at Ben’s sleeve. Ben glanced at Mitaka’s thoughtful expression.  
“You know, if we succeed today you could try being less of an arsehole to me.”  
“Why?” asked Ben. “You’re a total dick to me.”  
Mitaka’s face coloured and he sniggered. Ben caught images of Mitaka's surface thoughts and laughed.

When they entered the spaceport, Ben nodded in satisfaction. This was going to be way easier than he’d expected. He pointed to one of the ships.  
“That one. I can fly that with my eyes closed.”  
“That?” Mitaka looked around the bays. “Why? What a heap of junk! There’s got to be something better.”  
“Hey, watch it!” Ben strode across the bay to the ship and raised a hand to a panel at head height. “I happen to know that this crate’ll do the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs.”  
Ben opened the panel and pulled the release. With a hiss, the ramp lowered and Ben welcomed Mitaka onto the _Millennium Falcon._

Mitaka commed Armitage and over the next three hours, in ones and twos and threes, the Millennium Falcon welcomed her new cargo. Last to arrive was Phasma. She nodded to Armitage and walked through the ship counting heads.  
“All correct. Seventeen. Six officers and eleven troopers.”  
Ben’s head whipped up. “There were fourteen. Fourteen troopers. They’re still out there. I can feel them.”  
Phasma nodded. “And their sacrifice will further the Empire on Arkanis. We leave.”  
Armitage removed the detonator from his pocket. Before Ben worked out what was happening, Phasma yelled _NOW!_ into her comm-link and Armitage flicked the switch on the detonator.  
Nothing happened inside the Millennium Falcon for three long seconds, until Armitage shoved Ben towards the cockpit and followed, leaping into the co-pilot seat. Ben gave his father’s codes to the tower and lifted off with hardly a wobble.

They soared skywards. Below, unseen but felt acutely by Ben, three young troopers in white plastoid armour walked into the Ambassador’s residence shooting at anything that moved and throwing explosives set on two minute timers. At the same time, the senate house lit like it was full of lightning, rumbled and puffed masonry dust, then settled with rockfall thunder.

A stolen transport screeched to a halt half a click from the spaceport. Leia clutched her head and screamed. Han held her, rocked her until she got hold of the horrors in her head and wept in despair. Poe looked around from the pilot's seat while Finn stared ahead.  
“What happened?”  
“It's Ben.” Leia pressed her sleeves into her eyes. “He felt it too. So much death. So much pain.”  
“Sweetheart?” Han took Leia’s wrists and held her hands away from her face, looking for eye contact. She gave it. “Leia, is Ben… is he okay?”  
She nodded. “He will be. But I felt him. I _feel_ him and it’s wrong. It’s like… like before.”  
“No. No.” Han was shaking his head. “It can’t be. Luke killed Snoke. You and Luke saved Ben from… from _that_.”  
Leia shook Han off and wiped her face on her sleeves. She nodded at Poe to keep going then reached out to stroke Han’s face.  
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the epilogue. I meant to stop after 5 but I just... didn't.


	8. Epilogue

“Sir? You’re gonna want to see this!”

Grand Admiral Rae Sloane scowled and massaged her forehead, fingers circling the pockmarks and scars left by a spray of searing steel sparks; some of the thousand marks on her body that reminded her daily of the demise of the _Imperialis._ By rights she should have died, and all records showed that she went down with her ship like a good captain. She allowed herself a second or two of smug satisfaction at her memory of the look on Gallius Rax’s face when she’d pushed her blaster pistol against his thick skull and squeezed the trigger in front of his frozen command crew. Taking over his flagship just as he gave the order to self-destruct had been a triumph rooted in loyalty to the Empire but grown, she admitted, mostly with luck. 

“Acknowledged. On my way.”

Sloane pushed herself up and lurched across to her chair with difficulty. The old Empire would have had her retire on a pittance with these injuries, but now she ran the new Empire priorities had changed. She spoke to the comm-link that paired with her customised repulsorlift and it rose two inches from the floor, slid out of the office at walking pace and made for the bridge of _The Finalizer_.

Sloane’s bridge crew saluted as she entered.   
“Report, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, there is a Corellian YT freighter waiting in our docking tractors. They’ve powered down all non-vital systems as requested and the pilot says they’re officer cadets and stormtrooper recruits from the Imperial Academy on Arkanis.”

Rae Sloane raised her eyebrows.  
“Lieutenant, Arkanis Academy was attacked and destroyed in a series of vicious raids years ago. There were no reported survivors.”  
“Yes, sir. Um?” The man looked nervous.   
“Speak!”  
“The captain of the _Imperialis_ went down with her ship, sir, I read it in a report.”  
“Point taken.” Sloane frowned and tapped at her wasted knee. “Get me a list of names. I want to know exactly who these people say they are before I decide whether to blast them out of the heavens or welcome them home.”

Sloane waited and listened. Three voices, one at a time, rattled off name and rank. The last paused then recited a list of eleven stormtrooper designations. Two more voices gave names and called themselves non commissioned officers.   
The chief petty officer at the communications station pulled up Imperial records for Cadet Armitage Hux, Cadet Dopheld Mitaka and Squad Leader Phasma. All of the stormtrooper designations provided flashed up green. There were no records of cadets called Thanisson or Unamo.   
“Well.” Sloane pushed herself up a little with her arms and settled down again, more comfortable. “At least they did their homework, whoever they are.”  
The chief petty officer nodded.   
“Yes sir, but there are seventeen life forms on board. They have sent sixteen names and codes.”  
“Transfer comm to me.” Sloane waited for a nod. “Corellian freighter, this is Grand Admiral Rae Sloane of the Imperial Super Star Destroyer _Finalizer._ You have one more person unaccounted for on board. I demand that you supply a full crew list. Who are you hiding?”  
There was a silence then a crackle and another voice.  
“My name is Ben Solo. I am….. I was a padawan of the New Jedi Order.”  
“And what does a Jedi want with the Empire?” Sloane wished she could read minds, a skill the Jedi were rumoured to have. “We are not friends.”  
“The New Republic is corrupt and the Jedi are too weak to do anything about it. I want to continue my training without my Jedi master dictating my thoughts and actions.”  
“The old Empire was also corrupt. Would you have it back?”  
“No.” Ben Solo paused and Sloane wondered how old he was, how uncertain. The comm-link crackled again and he spoke more clearly. ”Not yet. First, the galaxy needs order.”

Sloane cut off the comm and nodded to her lieutenant.  
“Bring them in. Full security. I want the Jedi and whichever one thinks they’re in charge in separate interrogation rooms. Put the rest in holding cells. Get ID from everyone and confirm whether they are who they say they are.”

 

Armitage Hux glanced at the face of the woman sitting opposite the interrogation chair, tempted to start counting the beige star-shaped scars on her dark skin. He rattled the magnetic binders that kept his wrists secured to the chair frame.  
“I’m no threat.”  
“I can see that,” replied Sloane, “Your print confirms you are Armitage Hux, son of Brendol Hux.”  
“Yes. I came to rejoin the Imperial forces after an enforced leave.”  
Sloane gripped her armrests and pushed so that she leaned closer.   
“Tell me, how did the dead, bastard son of an executed war criminal come to be knocking on my door, aboard the _Millennium fucking Falcon_ in the company of a _Skywalker?”_  
To Sloane’s confusion, Armitage Hux laughed until tears rolled from the corners of his eyes. When he recovered, he smiled at her.  
“It’s a _really_ long story.”  
Sloane sat back.  
“Then you better start telling it. Begin with what you know of your father’s stormtrooper programme.”

 

Next door, Ben Solo lay back in a similar harness. By the time Sloane had ordered that Armitage Hux be taken to secure barracks, Ben Solo was asleep. Sloane ordered the stormtrooper who guarded the door to wake him up. Ben Solo yelled at the rough treatment and the stormtrooper flew across the room, crashed into the wall and collapsed on the floor.   
“Do you always wake up in a mood?” Sloane kept her distance.   
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Ben tried to turn his head as he spoke but the restraints restricted his motion. “I was having a bad dream and suddenly… He’s okay, just stunned.”  
“Hmm. You don’t react well to surprises.” Sloane called for medical assistance and waited as the unfortunate trooper was stretchered out. “Please don’t do that again. We are short of good stormtroopers as it is.”  
“Hah,” Ben smiled a fake smile. “Brought you eleven more.”  
“Hux reported that you spent part of the journey as a captive because of your…” Sloane read her notes, _”…violent outburst at the deaths of three troopers and an unspecified number of civilians”_. Care to explain why I should keep you alive?”  
Ben’s smile vanished and his voice was barely more than a whisper.   
“Because I can prevent the New Jedi Order from ever finding you.”  
“Oh?” Sloane released the head restraint and moved forward into Ben’s view. “And just _how_ do you plan to do that?”

 

It took days to debrief all the Arkanis survivors. Sloane read reports and cross-referenced each story and reached one hopeful conclusion: Hux and Phasma between them could recreate the stormtrooper programme, with modifications to avoid Brendol’s failings. 

Phasma slotted into the stormtrooper command structure as a squadron leader, but Sloane had no doubt that her promotion would be rapid. The troopers she had brought would complete their training under her command. 

Hux was a difficult one. He was used to leadership, could be diplomatic when he needed to be but struggled when given direct orders and did not tolerate anything he saw as insubordination. Sloane decided to keep him very close and oversee the remainder of his training herself.

Cadet Mitaka was a resourceful young officer and she needed recruits like him in her ranks. Taking account of his wide experience, she gave him a First Lieutenant’s uniform and told him to shadow an experienced officer. 

Unamo learned the comms system in hours and Thanisson tested well on a trial shift monitoring the _Finalizer’s_ various system readouts. Both were welcomed by the overstretched comms team.

Overall, mused Sloane, she had been very lucky.

Only Ben Solo gave her real concern. There was no place in her galaxy for such unpredictable Force manipulation. Her instinct told her to treat him the same way as she had treated Gallius Rax. But with reluctance, she agreed to his persuasive suggestion that he should be allowed to go. She watched as the Jedi said his goodbyes to Hux, Phasma and Mitaka in the hangar where they had first set foot on her ship. The tracker she’d had installed on the _Millennium Falcon_ would warn her to prime the weapons if there was any danger of him ever coming back.


End file.
